I think the Rhodeway Inn in Asheville is the first motel we have ever stayed in that served Krispy Kreme donuts for breakfast. We munched on the decadent treats and sang happy birthday to Drew back in Connecticut.
We drove back up to Craggy Dome. Asheville recorded 44 degrees overnight, but an hour later when we reached the summit, the top of the world was coated white. Icicles dripped from rock ledges in frozen spikes, and trees, bushes, grasses all swayed in ghostly frost on both sides of the road. "It's really a micro climate," said Andy. "It's way more extensive than yesterday." The white world extended about four miles. In that area leaves totally blanketed the road, and the pine trees in the distance swayed like pure white specters. Clouds covering the mountain top at night had left their coating of moisture frozen on everything. 
As we circled Craggy Dome at 9:15 a.m. and headed down the eastern side toward Mount Mitchell, a bright sun hit the landscape. The frost melted to a coating of sparkling dew. Even the wildflowers, now yellow and purple, glistened in the fresh morning.
Gated, the last mile of Summit Drive itself was blocked to all traffic due to ice on the road. In addition, the cell tower at the ranger station at 6,684 feet near the turn around had blown down, so trees that grew in the challenging environment could have come down as well. "This part of the Parkway from Asheville through Route 180 is closed in the winter," said Andy. "It's the highest point east of the Mississippi River." Andy read the tourist pamphlets while we sat in the parking lot at the Summit House.
The restaurant opened at 10:00 a.m., and hot coffee sounded like a great option. I kept thinking of the song, "I'm sittin' on top of the world, just rollin' along, just singin' a song. I'm singin' the blues (whites) of the world..." The atmosphere reminded me of Mount Washington, only Mount Mitchell is tree covered instead of rocky and barren.
We sat in the lodge for an hour, sipping hot coffee, watching clouds drift over the rim only to dissipate in the East, and listening to cascades of ice rumble down and slosh off the metal roof.
It was truly a winter wonderland.
We battled a howling wind along the stone path to the top, but the view was worth every bone chilling step. Ranger Vincent from Marion, North Carolina, a graduate of Western North Carolina State and West Virginia told us that the temperature yesterday never got above 24 degrees. "It was miserable," he said. "With the mountain shrouded in fog, you couldn't see a thing."
While we stood on the top of the world, at 6,684 feet with wind whipping around us, Ranger Vincent explained that the white was rime, frozen fog that condenses instantly as it touches a cold surface. "We did have a little snow," he added. "That's why some of the trees have a thicker coating."
The restaurant opened at 10:00 a.m., and hot coffee sounded like a great option. I kept thinking of the song, "I'm sittin' on top of the world, just rollin' along, just singin' a song. I'm singin' the blues (whites) of the world..." The atmosphere reminded me of Mount Washington, only Mount Mitchell is tree covered instead of rocky and barren.We sat in the lodge for an hour, sipping hot coffee, watching clouds drift over the rim only to dissipate in the East, and listening to cascades of ice rumble down and slosh off the metal roof.
It was truly a winter wonderland.
We battled a howling wind along the stone path to the top, but the view was worth every bone chilling step. Ranger Vincent from Marion, North Carolina, a graduate of Western North Carolina State and West Virginia told us that the temperature yesterday never got above 24 degrees. "It was miserable," he said. "With the mountain shrouded in fog, you couldn't see a thing."While we stood on the top of the world, at 6,684 feet with wind whipping around us, Ranger Vincent explained that the white was rime, frozen fog that condenses instantly as it touches a cold surface. "We did have a little snow," he added. "That's why some of the trees have a thicker coating."
No matter, the artist up above knew what He was doing on this brilliant Sunday morning. 
Every step and turn at Craggy Gardens offered a spectacular picture. "Just think how few people actually see this," I said to Andy, as we climbed from the parking area to the Vista Lookout.
Every step and turn at Craggy Gardens offered a spectacular picture. "Just think how few people actually see this," I said to Andy, as we climbed from the parking area to the Vista Lookout.
"True," he answered. "Not many people take the trail."
"Not that alone. How many people travel at this time of year? And how many of those see the landscape see it covered in rime!" I said.
"And this section of the Parkway isn't even open in the winter," he added. We had learned that the Blue Ridge Parkway section through Mount Mitchell and Craggy Dome closes from November 15 or before to April 15, because the tunnels ice up.
We didn't want to leave the fairy kingdom summit. Even the wild raspberry bushes and mountain laurel glistened in white. Graceful stalks of Queen Anne's lace bent gently under the weight of the rime coating, a royal robe of white.
We didn't want to leave the fairy kingdom summit. Even the wild raspberry bushes and mountain laurel glistened in white. Graceful stalks of Queen Anne's lace bent gently under the weight of the rime coating, a royal robe of white.
"The tree with the red berries?" I asked the ranger at the Craggy Visitor Center.
"It's a mountain ash," she said. "Those gorgeous red berries are edible, but they don't taste good. And mountain ash isn't a tree. It's actually a shrub, a member of the rose family."
"That's cool," said Andy. "I assume that means it does not succumb to the ash bore."
"You're right," she said. "That's one thing we don't have to worry about."
We walked the Craggy Gardens Trail for about .8 mile to the picnic area shelter and beyond to the heather-covered domes. At the junction with the Douglas Fir Trail to the falls a frightened couple hurried past us, breathlessly reporting they had seen a bear on the trail and heard its deep throated warning growl.
We walked the Craggy Gardens Trail for about .8 mile to the picnic area shelter and beyond to the heather-covered domes. At the junction with the Douglas Fir Trail to the falls a frightened couple hurried past us, breathlessly reporting they had seen a bear on the trail and heard its deep throated warning growl.
We didn't take the Fir Trail. We never spotted the bear.
During the late afternoon, we found our way to Connemara, the Carl Sandburg Home National Historic Site in Hendersonville. Here Sandburg lived out the last 22 years of his life with his wife Lilian, three daughters and two grandchildren of his oldest daughter Helga. She was the only one who married, and she wed three times. The family bought Connemara for $40,000 in 1946, because Mrs. Sandburg chose North Carolina for its ideal climate to raise her goats. World famous milk producers, the goats thrived on the lush grass as they had not thrived on sand dune grasses in Michigan. Initially she felt the price was too high for the 246 acres, but Sandburg fell in love with the view. When he died, she sold the property a year later to the National Park Service for $200,000.
During the late afternoon, we found our way to Connemara, the Carl Sandburg Home National Historic Site in Hendersonville. Here Sandburg lived out the last 22 years of his life with his wife Lilian, three daughters and two grandchildren of his oldest daughter Helga. She was the only one who married, and she wed three times. The family bought Connemara for $40,000 in 1946, because Mrs. Sandburg chose North Carolina for its ideal climate to raise her goats. World famous milk producers, the goats thrived on the lush grass as they had not thrived on sand dune grasses in Michigan. Initially she felt the price was too high for the 246 acres, but Sandburg fell in love with the view. When he died, she sold the property a year later to the National Park Service for $200,000.
Even before he moved, Sandburg had never parted with a book or a magazine.
"They were everywhere in the house," said Ranger Celeste, our tour guide. "In fact, they were so heavy that supports had to be added to the house just to hold the weight. The openings on the shelves in Sandburg's business office are only because we are repairing and cleaning that section of his library," she explained.
"He had the volumes organized by subject, but no one but the poet himself knew what his organizational system actually was."
"He had the volumes organized by subject, but no one but the poet himself knew what his organizational system actually was."
After our house tour with Ranger Celeste and some glimpses of the 17,000 volumes that Sandburg brought with him from Michigan, we headed for the barn.
There, about 20 goats from the original blood line browsed in the barnyard. We chatted with a volunteer, a very pleasant lady from Indiana, who obviously cared about the animals and understood their unique personalities.
There, about 20 goats from the original blood line browsed in the barnyard. We chatted with a volunteer, a very pleasant lady from Indiana, who obviously cared about the animals and understood their unique personalities.
"What a special place," said Andy. "No wonder Sandburg loved it here." I certainly agreed.
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