For the first time, Scott and I rung in the New Year as jet-setters, happily escaping the New Year bling of the city and trading it in for small town comforts and big big love.  Hopping on a 6:45am flight to Chattanooga, by 9am we were giddy in the remnants of snow and calming our bellies at a local treasure, Aretha Frankensteins.  For the first time in weeks, we were finally feeling the calm.

A wedding in October hosted the reunion of a friend of mine from college who owns a big chunk of my heart.  We got each other through the thick of our grueling summer of design, and the sisterhood we shared during that time is unexplainable through words.  When Lindsay and her husband, James, invited us to join them for the New Year, we barely hesitated before excitedly jumping up and down like puppy dogs violently nodding our heads in affirmation.  We had planned (well, I had planned) on staying in Chattanooga for a bit to play before heading down into the mountains to the cabin to meet our friends.  But when Lindsay and James called and said they were headed over to Ellijay, we were outta there!

On the drive up, I could hardly contain myself.  I’m holding on to my version in that everything was covered in snow.  So what if it was an inch thick, it was everywhere!  The terrain taking on a new personality as the deep brown tree bark jutted from it’s pristine backdrop in glorious drama.  We pulled over and hopped out of the car to take it all in.  Holy freeze your butts off it was cold.  The icy air was blasting against our faces and somehow our reaction to it all was just to giggle.  Giggle, then quickly hop in the car to cradle our tushies back into the heated seats.

We met up with the DunBlauers (Lindsay and James’s new given name) at Colonel Poole’s for some late day barbeque.  This place, for sure, was an Ellijay landmark and we were happy to oblige.  After all, it isn’t just anywhere you can ride a token pig!

The cabin was perfectly tucked down a short jaunt through the woods, overlooking a boisterous stream below.  The boys quickly turned their fascinations to starting the fire, bellowing the flames with their mouths in true boy scout form.  We nestled down into the couches to relax and wait for the arrival of Lindsay and Tim, who also were graced with a given name, the Berms.  When you refer to your friends by their last names, it seems only natural to combine them with their married names for one sweet convergence.

The rest of our time at the cabin went pretty much as such.  No schedules to keep, no pressing moments… we were content in this sanctuary of pine.  All bundled together with our noses perched in books, magazines, even computers.  Each of us pausing from time to time to contribute to the conversations that continually danced around the room, bluegrass music lulling us into the groove of the cabin.  The only thing on our agenda, some exploring to do.

With peanut butter and jelly sandwiches packed, we headed out for a scenic drive to a trail head where we were tickled in finding we were the only ones to land upon this spot.  Just the six of us, selfishly delighting in all its beauty, all for ourselves.

This was the perfect prelude to ringing in the New Year.

Exhausted, yet oddly rejuvenated, the weekend came to an end quicker than I think any of us expected.  Before we knew it we were clutched in hugs and off to find our way back to our own worlds.  It was a sweet drive back to Chattanooga as Scott and I stole some extra time to play on our way.  The once snow covered terrain now fully exposed from the weekend’s rain.  Days like these together are sacred.

Opportunities to be with friends like this are sacred.  Lindsay, James, Lindsay and Tim, thank you for sharing this piece of your world with us!

I’m still playing that music, relivin’ it in my head.