ellipses yard sale

7:29 a.m. - 2022-06-06
I-40

Interstate 40 from Asheville NC to the Tennessee border traces a rugged seam across the Blue Ridge Mountains, descending dramatically and wending in kind through gorges expanded (just-enough) by sweat and dynamite and tunnels blasted through any topological impediment stubborn enough to resist. Miles behind me, in the Carolina lowlands, the morning sun is well-up and shining predictably. But in the shadows of these peaks the light is still soft, thin clouds are close overhead, and the rock ledges are slick with dew. Dew-laden too is the wisteria – vines heavy w/purple flowers, cascading anywhere the rock affords purchase.

By the time I cross the Pigeon River (natch) the mist is lifting and, as the road emerges from a shrouded vale, the landscape expands to reveal a wild panorama. A swath of golden light has been cut across the top of a ridge ahead, and the sloping foothills and alpine meadows below are illumined in gradient accordance...but the whole idyll is staged before the backdrop of an approaching front, and stands in bright relief against ominous black skies.

Minutes later the storm's first outriders sweep through, dark sheets of rain moving from peak to peak in an improvised atmospheric ghost-waltz. But even then, through every gap in the clouds, sunlight persists - strewing rainbows and dappling the scenery below. This elemental drama, this interplay of light, and this epic terrain...it felt like I'd stepped into a J.M.W. Turner painting.

Like I was Hannibal crossing the Alps, only in a 2006 Chrysler mini-van.

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