That's where I come from

You've got Sir Walter Scott, we've got Kenny Chesney

I shared some philosophical ramblings about homelands on here when I visited the borderlands of Scotland where my ancestors might have come from.

Well this picture was taken at the beginning of summer up Scott Road where those ancestors ended up in Tennessee a few months after I got back.

Summer days in Tennessee seem to me to save the best for last. It can be “hot as hay-el” with sweltering humidity but right after the sun goes down, the cool that sets in is magic on the skin and grass becomes cold on bare feet.

At this time, it tends to get misty down near the Nolichucky River as if the land were an old farmer creaking down into his chair and letting out a deep sigh mixed with a groan of popping bones. This night was vintage East Tennessee.

Yet even in this sweet moment in my homeland, there’s something missing.

And I’m reminded of a quote from C. S. Lewis:

“The security we crave would teach us to rest our hearts in this world and oppose an obstacle to our return to God: a few moments of happy love, a landscape, a symphony, a merry meeting with our friends, a bathe or a football match, have no such tendency. Our Father refreshes us on the journey with some pleasant inns, but will not encourage us to mistake them for home.”