Apples in the mountains

Tomorrow I take on the moral equivalent of Stuart's ride around McLellan during the peninsula campaign of the early Civil War. Polk, Gordon, Murray, Dawson, Habersham and Jackson Counties. Driving up past the yankees on their right flank, through Cobb County, I bypass the yankees who are now gathering in Rome and Cartersville and head west to Cedartown, up to Calhoun and Chatsworth, then swing down south on to Dawsonville, then surprise, move north to Clarksville and then on to Jefferson,before I head back to the office.

I think that will be quite a surprise for tomorrow.

I am eating an apple we picked south of Ellijay. These Honeycrisp apples are pretty good. I must say that the Granny Smiths are perfect for the big bowl of melted caramel. Tart and firm, but perfect contrast with the thick, rich sweetness of the caramel.

That was good until the fish sandwich in Dahlonega and the pint glass of Guiness. I could have used two, but Cindy wouldn't have let me drive for the rest of the day, so I rode down to Dawsonville, or "Awesomeville" as we called it on Saturday.

The skies were pale blue and there were no clouds in the sky. We enjoyed as much of the outdoors as we could without hiking up some mountain in North Georgia. In double time.

In a few weeks, we will be hiking up in the mountains. The air will be even cooler. We might smell woodsmoke and try to catch some little trout fish. I think we better borrow the waders, although Momma says if they leave the house, they don't come back into the basement.

Right now, the Honey crisp is good for eating and maybe it will keep the doctors away for another week. So the saying goes.