Adventures in Frontierland
So Thanksgiving has come and gone and you all probably thought I died of hypothermia somewhere in the mountains of North Carolina. Silly Reader. Don't you know by now that I'm just a lazy blogger?
After the 10-plus hour drive, which we were smart enough to break into two days on the way down, we finally arrived at our destination. A cute, little barn, nestled in a valley by a small river. Or big stream.
It was nothing like I had imagined/feared. It's just a simple, one room affair. With a loft for sleeping and a loft for storage. Quite charming really. It is destined to become the workshop/artist studio for Becca and her beau Evan once they've built their house. Until then, it is their house. They've done all the work themselves. The only thing they didn't build was the foundation. And I have to say, I'm very impressed, and slightly jealous.
I have this fantasy of one day living in a rural setting like this, in a small cabin, with an old barn as a workshop/photo studio. It's a dream that's been influenced by my father and grandfather from when I was a much younger lad. The idea of living simply is quite appealing to me. Does that mean no running water? Of course not. It might mean going without a TV, but that's a decision to be made later. Say, when I can actually afford to purchase a cabin and land and whatnot.
The Day of Feasting was a lot of fun as we juggled the food preparations. They only have an electric hotplate and a grill to cook all their meals, so we had to plan out which items to start when and hope everything came together at the same time. Luckily, they're newly installed woodburning stove provided an excellent spot to put things that needed to stay warm while other dishes were prepared.
It also was the ideal spot to keep the spiced wine brewing. Which also added to the wonderful aromas that filled the tiny barn.
Everyone wanted to help out, but the size of the "kitchen" just didn't allow more than two people to be working on things at a time. So we all took turns sitting and watching and drinking the vast quantities of beer and cider that we'd purchased.
This is the "kitchen". Above them is the sleeping loft. You use the A-frame ladder to get up there.
The Morris Elders arrived a little closer to feasting time, as they were holed up in their RV preparing the bird. Once they got there, everything started to come together. The taters had been warming on the woodburning stove. The lentil cakes were frying on the hotplate. The cranberries chilling in the beer cooler. We set up a couple of folding tables and started to lay out the eats.
Everything was delicious. Nothing was cold, except things that were intended to be so. And everyone quieted down and stuffed their faces. A lot. It was a charming, Thanksgiving dinner.
We entertained ourselves by chopping wood, building fires and strolling along the river. One night, we started a little bonfire and everyone pulled up a chair and watched as Jon pulled out his fire breathing gear. Which I was invited to partake of. Which I did. And it's something I never need to do again. Not because of the fire or any fears associated with it. But because the liquid you spit out, across the flaming torch to create the giant fire ball, is called Everclear. It's an alcohol that comes with the warning "Do No Consume Straight". It was like having a mouthful of fire ants swimming in seawater. The shit burned. It took your breath away. After three times, the inside of my mouth felt like it was covered in scales. But it makes for a cool effect.
We spent the better part of Black Friday wandering the streets of Asheville. A charming little city that reminded me a great deal of Boulder, Colorado. Very hip and artsy, but also very down to earth. We finished out the evening at The Asheville Brewing Co, which is very similar to the Brew & View in Chicago. Only it's a lot cleaner, has comfy seating everywhere and they serve pizza. We saw 3:10 to Yuma, which, if you haven't, you should it check out. A most entertaining flick.
We all camped out on the floor of the barn, with the exception of Jon who manned up and slept in his tent out in an abandoned house on the other side of a creek. No thank you. My imagination is too vivid to allow me any sort of comfortable sleep whilst there might be bears or hillbilly serial killers or Big Foot lurking about. The stove kept us all toasty, if a bit smokey, so long as the fire was actually crackling. Once it died down though, the chill crept in and no one wanted to venture out of their warm wraps to stoke the fire. It was only three nights thought. I don't know how Becca and Evan managed for the year or more before the stove. Let alone the winter nights spent in a f*cking tent.
All things said and done, it was a most enjoyable time. With good eats and good company. The Morris clan are a fun-loving bunch and I am grateful to be part of the inner circle. So, how was your Turkey Day? I bet you didn't have to worry about your asscheeks freezing to the toilet seat. Or did you? Do tell.
