It seems that nowadays everybody (including yours truly) posts everything on facebook. While that’s loads of fun, it does mean that I’ve been blogging there instead of here. I apologize for the hiatus… but if you’re on facebook, join me there! There’s a business page, for Timberwolf Creek, and I have my personal page under my own name for political rants, travel posts, and pictures of my grandkids. And my dog. And my ridiculously handsome husband. So it goes.
Meanwhile, I grabbed this photo in the morning and it just sums up All Things Wonderful about living on this beautiful mountain. Moss and ivy climbing up the side of an enormous tree, ferns underfoot alongside the tumbling stream, an understory of great rhododendron, promising white bouquets in another couple of weeks… It all combines to make a cool, green, quiet space, for retreat, reflection, renewal. You can *breathe* here.
I have been remiss. With eleventy bazillion photos of the Creek House all over this website and also www.maggievalleycottage.com, I didn’t realize I skipped pictures of my hands-down favorite place to be – in the kitchen!
Now, this is not a dream house magazine spread designer gourmet kitchen. Far from it. It isn’t snazzy. But it makes you feel so *welcome*. It’s a cook-in-your-socks kind of kitchen. And after making breakfast in here for the past eighteen years (how in the world did that much time fly by?!) I confess that I never want to spend any time in another drywall ho-hum boring kitchen. I love my mismatched cabinets, hardwood floors, low ceiling beams covered in mugs. The hooks are horseshoe nails fashioned into cup hooks for me by a blacksmith, back when we had one of those in Maggie Valley.
There are treasures in every corner, and little odd places to tuck in another bit here, another bit there. I’ve filled it with things I love to use, and it’s an easy place to work.
So this week, when a very nice lady asked for kitchen pictures, I was stunned to find out that in my many tens of thousands of pictures on my computer, I couldn’t find any of the kitchen! That’s because… wait for it… guess what: when I’m in the kitchen, I’m COOKING, not taking pictures haha!
Without further ado, voila: The Kitchen, before and after…
Our Picnic Package always includes the basket – so that you can take it with you on your travels. We’ve just gotten in our newest edition of baskets: a backpack! These things are SO COOL! The body of the backpack is insulated, and when you unzip the outside section, voila: dishes and utensils.
We think the slip pocket is ideally suited for a trail map…
Take your picnic into the mountains to enjoy in the high country of Western North Carolina. We’ll provide you with directions to some wonderful spots for a picnic –choose from the Blue Ridge Parkway, the historic Cataloochee Valley, the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, or right here at Timberwolf Creek alongside the stream.
Enjoy freshly baked bread (sandwich filled to order) and fruit and cheese and veggies and olives and sweets and beverages and the list goes on… There’s usually a pie in there somewhere… Nothing like finding a whole entire pie in the bottom of your picnic basket 🙂 and of course all the implements you’ll need to enjoy that pie, and the rest of your picnic.
But wait, you’re not a hiker? No worries. The backpacks lend themselves to all sorts of outings. The insulated compartment keeps everything nice, so you can take this on your road trip and have lunch along the way (some of the highway rest areas have really beautiful picnic areas) instead of just hitting another fast food drive through window. Or tuck a book into the front pocket, pack snacks and head for the park. Do you bring your lunch to work? Take turns with a friend, and blow them away when you arrive with this one, filled with your favorite pasta salad and fresh cut fruit and bakery delights. And by all means, surprise your sweetheart with a walk in the mountains, a special bottle of wine, exquisite cheese and crunchy goodies. What a great way to propose…
Picnics at Timberwolf Creek are packed in a picnic basket/backpack for you to keep. Everything you need for a marvelous lunch in the fine country air.
And of course, you can always just use it as a backpack.
North Carolina has an abundance of artisnal cheesemakers, and we have two within an hour’s drive that you can easily visit during your stay with us. Out past Cherokee, is Yellow Branch Farm. They have both cheese and pottery tours (feel free to bring me a piece with that exquisite blue glaze). And stop on the way back to tube down Deep Creek in Bryson City, or take the seven-mile loop hike and see the waterfalls.
Heading east past Asheville, you can tour both Looking Glass Creamery (makers of my all-time favorite chocolate lab cheese) and, if you’re feeling adventurous, continue out to Hickory Nut Gap Farm for you-pick berries and apples to perfect your tailgate picnic. Of course, there are a bazillion little spots to recommend in nearby Asheville, but that’s a post for another day.
Not looking for a day trip, but still want all that fabulous artisnal cheese? No problem! Pop over to Waynesville (ten minutes away) and head down to the Montgomery Street Market for lots and lots of locally made yummies, in addition to all that cheese.
Or just laze away an afternoon upstairs at the Frog’s Leap Public House, with a lovely glass of wine, and a small-plate of local cheese. They usually have four or five… and I usually tell them to put everything on a platter and bring it to me… Now *that* is a fabulous lunch!
Confessions of an Innkeeper: I’ve had my B&B since 1998, I’m 58 years old, and today I poached an egg for the first time in my life. I’m astonished how fast, how simple, how easy – and why in the world have I been so intimidated by this??!?
Nevermore! Break an egg (cold & fresh) into a small bowl. Put an inch of water in a saucepan. Bring it to a boil and then ease it off to a simmer. Add a teaspoon of salt, two of white vinegar, swirl to make a whirlpool. Ease the egg right into the center of the whirlpool. Cover and remove from heat. NO PEEKING for five minutes. Poof. Egg. I didn’t trim edges, cherry pick the best ones, or anything. This is how they came out. I took them out of the pan with a slotted spoon, laid momentarily on a paper towel and put them in the bowl. That’s it. Oh, and I ate them. With pleasure.
Do you like to return to your favorite haunts, or do you seek out new experiences? Do you have an itinerary? Would you rather let the wind carry you where it may?
For a while now, I’ve been toying with the notion of categorizing travelers – not only my guests, but myself and those with whom I travel. Back in my 20s, I was introduced to the ‘four humors’ proposed by Hippocrates, which has been imitated, expanded upon, and reengineered through a complete metamorphosis into sixteen types by Briggs-Meyers. But the fundamental notion of four basic personality types still holds. Even Hippocrates allowed for a blend of primary and secondary traits.
Given all that, I wondered if maybe there were also four corresponding travel personalities… perhaps a combination of more than one type – or even stepping out to try a new type of travel, now and then.
The only ones I was really aware of, in the B&B business, are the folks who return to the same place again and again, versus the folks who will always go somewhere new. Since I am the former and my husband the latter, I wondered at the motivation.
So let’s start with the original four… Sanguine, Melancholy, Choleric, and Phlegmatic. I’ve heard them described many ways. One that made a lot of sense to me, answered the question, “What do they love?” Sanguine: fun. Melancholy: order. Choleric: control. Phlegmatic: peace. Another description I enjoyed (because I am, after all, a Sanguine) put each in a role in a theater. Sanguine: the actor. Melancholy: the stage manager. Choleric: the director. And Phlegmatic: the audience. A list of best/worst traits included… Sanguine: loving/ridiculous. Melancholy: generous/depressed. Choleric: willing/angry. Phlegmatic: thoughtful/withdrawn. Anyway, you get the idea.
In our family, we have examples of each. If I (the Sanguine) lose my car keys, and later find them in the bottom of my purse, I’m so happy to have them! Plus, I found a $10 bill, three peppermint candies, and the phone number I was looking for. It’s like Christmas. Nick (my Choleric son) will tell me that I should always put the keys in the front right pocket so that I’ll know where to find them. Larry (my Melancholy husband) will kindly label the pocket for me. And my Phlegmatic boy Gary will just ask, “Why do all that? Dad has a spare key.”
Ok, so you get the general idea. How does that translate to travel? Ok, bear with me…
I love to travel. Travel brings me joy. And the discovery of new and different places, and learning all about them, that’s fantastic! I travel for the pleasure of travel. And yet… the richest experiences for me are returning again and again to the places I love. We’ve been to Cozumel about twenty times, over the course of our marriage. On our honeymoon, we discovered an out of the way place on the back side of the island, populated only by locals, unknown to tourists. We ordered lobster tails, by pointing at the picture menu. A charming little man, Willie, trotted them out on a tray to our table in the sand where we sat barefoot under a palapas-roofed umbrella. As much I enjoyed exploring all the new places along the way, year after year, my heart would swell as we’d step back into that little restaurant and Willie would come out again to greet us. So. I’m calling the Sanguine version of travel “Norm at Cheers” -you remember the TV show. The theme song was ‘Where everybody knows your name’.
Next, let’s take a look at our Melancholy travelers… They are the Lewis & Clark Explorers, on a quest to organize and document each trip. It’s not about the document at the end, it’s about the planning process and the travel itself – about checking off the boxes. “Oh, let’s go this way. I haven’t driven through that city, yet.” Check. “Let’s try this new restaurant.” And if you ask, “Sure, why?” They’ll tell you, “I’ve been to everywhere else on that street, except that one.” Check. Or, “I’ve never had Chinese-Jamaican fusion food.” Check. The Lewis & Clark Explorer traveler isn’t opposed to indulging a Norm at Cheers traveler by revisiting a restaurant… but it’s a cinch, he won’t order what he had the first time.
The Phlegmatic traveler is an entirely different animal. He, too, is only interested in new places, but couldn’t care less about checking off boxes. (“Boxes? I don’t understand. What boxes?”) His quest is just to see what else is out there. He’s an easy traveler, moving when his party wants to move, but given his own solitary company, he’ll roost in a place for a while, to soak in the ambiance, before moving along to the next. He’s the backpacker in Europe, the retiree with a motor home and no plan, in America. Footloose and relaxed. Our Wanderer, on the poor side, is the hobo. On the wealthy side, he’s a jet-setter. (I wonder if you’ve ever considered the similarities before?)
Enter the Choleric traveler – the Rick Steves/Charles Kuralt of travel, our Tour Guide. They also travel, like Norm at Cheers, for the pleasure of travel. And like the Lewis & Clark Explorer, they like to see it all, even in an organized fashion. But they have an agenda. The Tour Guides aren’t just collecting experiences. They are sorting and sifting through to find the creme de la creme. And they share the knowledge! Nothing pleases our Tour Guides better than saying, “Oh, you’re going There? You absolutely Must stop at this divine little spot.” The Tour Guide is perfectly content revisiting places. For heaven’s sake, why would you skip the very best spots?
Ok, ok, I confess: I’m a sanguine with a Lot of choleric in there. And yes, I’m happy to provide directions to my favorite little restaurant on Cozumel.
What a special afternoon! Ok, it’s like this… Every state in America requires that you obtain your marriage license from the state in which you are to be married. That same license has to be returned to that office, in order to be registered (Register of Deeds) and recorded (Vital Records), and only then can the wedding couple get a certified copy of their license. That certified copy allows them to update drivers license, insurance, benefits, Social Security, etc. We get lots of couples here from out of state – or out of the country – who’ve never even heard of Maggie Valley, never been in this part of North Carolina, or maybe even to the United States, but they loved the pictures (and apparently the zany innkeepers) of Timberwolf Creek, and they come here to us, to be married. After the wedding, they have to mail away to our local courthouse for their official copy of the license, and all that administrative stuff is just in limbo while they wait.
This time, it was a little different. Our very Irish couple (Americans) decided to come on Friday, apply for and get the license, and bring it to us here. We then had a handfasting ceremony, with witnesses, who signed the documents. Our couple then rushed back to the courthouse and registered their marriage! To celebrate the completion of all this running-about, they went on to have a couples massage at Mountain Spirit Wellness, followed by a leisurely dinner out at Frog’s Leap Public House.
The cords are burgundy, gold and green. The burgundy represents romance, partnership, and happiness. The gold is for unity, prosperity, and longevity. The green stands for peace, sincerity, and devotion. And in this case, the cords were all from the bridegroom’s graduations, as he has more than one advanced degree – perfect!
The wedding ceremony (traditional) will be Saturday, no further government intervention required. Voila.
A handfasting is an ancient Celtic custom, which allowed a couple to make a marital commitment to each other, for a year-and-a-day. This was important in places like the rural Scottish Highlands, because it could be many months before you’d see a priest. This way, a couple could be married, and then solemnize their ceremony within the church when the priest arrived later. They wouldn’t be living in sin, and they didn’t have to wait months to be married.
As the handfasting is on Friday and the wedding on Saturday, I’ve explained to the groom that he now is expected to produce a wonderful anniversary gift on *both* dates, for the rest of his life.
He’s ok with that.
And may they live Happily Ever After.
Could my job just be a LITTLE more fun? I think not.
When I am an Old Innkeeper
I shall wear yoga pants and fuzzy slippers
and forget where bras and hair products are stored.
I shall spend my worldly riches on chocolate and good wine
and tequila aged forever in oak.
I shall spend my afternoons playing silly games
and watching old TV series
and reading books one after another.
People will tire of ‘when I was in Italy’ and stories of
unruly guests and breakfast kitchen disasters.
But I won’t care. I’ll tell it anyway.
I will sleep through the morning and have breakfast mid-afternoon
and use paper towels as napkins.
I will lick the spoon and put it back in the sauce because
it will all be for me, anyway.
I will drink from the orange juice bottle in the middle of the night, in front of the refrigerator, in my bare feet and pajamas, with only the one small bulb to light my way.
I will go all week without cooking one egg.
I will go out for breakfast on Sundays, and order ovo-vegetarian-lactose-intolerant-gluten-free-low-carb high-protein-paleo-south-beach-vegan-macrobiotic omelets. With real cream for my coffee. And bacon. On the side.
For now, I will rise before the sun and indulge my guests and perform in the kitchen and savor each conversation and encounter.
But I am already practicing… for when I grow old.
I’m just bustin, I’m so proud. Larry left me up here in these mountains all alone to get ready for his first big SHOW. I’ll be hanging his photos at Frogs Leap Public House on Tuesday!! They are, in a word, spectacular. But y’all knew that. My big challenge was to write a bio for him. Well, hooray, it’s done! Just about impossible to read the fine print in my (clearly unprofessional) picture, but I’m gonna post the text below.
Larry Wright, Photographer
Toni, who owns this restaurant along with her husband, told me I needed to write a bio for Larry. Well. Where you start with something like that?! I suppose we can begin with where he’s from and how he got here. Geography. Jobs. So, “Born in Minnesota, moved to Florida as a young boy, came to Maggie Valley on vacation in 1998 and that was that.” Larry was the system administrator for the missiles division of Martin Marietta/Lockheed Martin. Now, he and his wife (that’s me!) have Timberwolf Creek B&B and a little outdoor wedding chapel. We moved on, from engineers to inngineers.
We like this spelling better.
I’m fairly certain that, even back in Minnesota, Larry had a camera slung over one shoulder. He still does. I joked that he has sixty thousand pictures on his computer and he gave me an arch look, and corrected me, “More than two hundred thousand, actually.” Going through old pictures, it’s hard to find one of Larry – he’s typically behind the lens – but when you do, there’s a touch of worry in his smile because you’re holding his camera.
Larry’s style has evolved over the years and it’s a pure pleasure to watch him winnow a landscape down to just exactly the right frame, while he waits with infinite patience for that perfect moment. Click.
And while you’ll enjoy walking through Frog’s Leap Public House to see all his work, why yes, since you asked, I do have a favorite. Not really because it’s my favorite image – no more than I could choose one of my children over another – but the story so wonderfully reflects Larry’s unflagging determination to capture an image… It’s called Mountain Daylilies.
It was one of those summer days so beautiful it hurts. And Larry knew it. He was packed up and gone, once the sun hit the windows. Packing up is a painstaking process when you’re dealing with oxygen tanks, back up tanks, regulators, carry bags, and then all that camera equipment. Off he went. He was coming back up our road when the afternoon sun picked out the daylilies planted in front of our place, and the blue, blue sky dotted with clouds was being cooperative. Larry pulled over, and decided he needed the mountain in the background, with that sky. He noted the sun shining through the flower petals, picking out the center in silhouette, and he laid down on the ground to get it framed precisely right… and then a car drove by – and pulled over! Oh, no! Guy with oxygen, lying on the ground! And ran to help him. Larry got up, thanked them and explained what he was doing and eventually they drove away. He got back on the ground, maneuvered back under the flowers, lined up his picture… and then a car drove by – and pulled over. People are kind. It was a long, long afternoon. Larry got his picture. It’s my favorite.
