Endless rows of Christmas trees and a bluebird sky surround me as I sit by a pond with a dog-eared copy of Paul Theroux’s compendium of travel missives, Fresh Air Fiend. Fresh air fiend is right.
I hear the property is pretty incredible in the winter too, but seeing as I saw more hummingbirds than people over my three-day stay, I’ll take shoulder season.
On Saturday morning, I had big plans to hit the grounds’ miles of trails but as soon as my first hiking boot exited the doorway, all was derailed by the beguiling C-curve of my rocking chair. Hiking in Waynesville could wait.
My 340 remaining pages of Theroux’s dispatches and the memory-evoking scent of Fraser Firs, could not.