Saturday, February 11, 2012

A Photo of Regret

I've posted this photo before. I took it five years ago when Carole, Andy, and I went on a late Fall camping trip to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. We were rewarded with a snowstorm in Newfound Gap and a really fun weekend.

This photo is of one of the high mountains above Elkmont where we were camping. Every time I look at it I think of "regret". For when I see this photo it reminds me of the high mountains that we could see from our property in Gilmer County in Georgia. It rarely snowed in Gilmer (only once in the four years we were there). But often on cold mornings after fronts had passed through we would stand at a clearing on a ridge and look across to the north of the county and see the high peaks all frozen in ice and snow.

My dad and I would gaze up at those high, cold summits and say, "We should drive up there and go play in the snow." But every time there would be other things calling. Either I had to be in school or he had to drive north to run his shop in Chattanooga. We never did take that jaunt across the county and up those roads to those 4,000-foot peaks to tromp around in the ice and play in the snow.

And what would it have mattered? One lost day of school. A day away from retail. The cost would have been small and brief, the rewards rich and lasting.

Life is oh-so-brief. Grab the days while you can.

Just below Newfound Gap in a raging snowstorm. We had a blast!

2 comments:

Kent Tankersley said...

I remember how nice it used to be to look up and see Tatter Patch all white with ice, even if we weren't getting any snow down below. And you're right about seizing the day. When I was at Young Harris I always wanted to walk up Brasstown Bald (an old road/trail started started right behind the girls' dorm). But never did. Just never bothered, and that's too bad.

HemlockMan said...

Yep, you should have hiked up Brasstown. I have friends who have hiked that trail--they say it's quite gorgeous. There is, I hear, a beautiful and bountiful spring along the trail with sweet water.

Life is short. We're here for six or seven decades, if we're lucky. Something you want to see? Something you want to do? Better get busy doin' it.