Falling Gently into the Carolinas

the leaf

Upon arriving this day in Winston Salem I greet a sunset filled with humid air, mosquitoes nipping at my ankles, and a lone, fallen leaf staring up at me from a brick stairway in Old Salem. This leaf, having already made its way from tree to ground, perhaps to be borne away on tomorrow’s breeze, stares indifferently up at me, oblivious to its surroundings and its delicate reminder to me of the season I've fallen into. Up the stairs with my luggage. Down again for more. Up the stairs with my luggage. Down again for more. Each time passing this one beacon of fall, beckoning me to take a picture. Finally, on my way out, I heed the call and take the shot. This of course sends my mind spinning about seasons, memories and my reaction to both.

Fall is my favorite time of year, but each fall for the past five years I have been journeying with ENRICH, visiting children’s homes in the Carolinas, and thus have not had the opportunity to fully experience it in all its splendor. All five years I have seen fall come gently, as is the way in the South. A slight drop in temperature from warmer to a few degrees less than warm, a mild change in the smell of the air, tinged with humidity, wood smoke and pine, and a brief period of time when the leaves, if of deciduous nature, turn away from dense green in a bright flash of color and, in another sudden flash, fall to the ground, signaling the true end of summer.

In all the years I’ve been traveling in the fall, in all the cities I’ve seen from my car, only once have I been in the mountains of North Carolina when the trees were a breathtaking array of colors, dazzling to the eye and distracting to the driver. Last year, living in Ohio where the weather is nothing if not seasonal, I missed the turning, coming home only in the last two weeks of startlingly colorful trees (in stark comparison to the ever greens of the Carolinas) only to have the leaves fall a short time later, giving way to leaden skies and dropping temperatures issuing winter in the door.

So this year, perhaps my last year of travel in the seat of this season, I must reflect on what I have seen, rather than what I have not. For each city has brought for me something interesting in the way of memories. And each year has brought me always and ever closer to the person I am supposed to be.

Five years ago, driving into Winston Salem, the city was a much needed and therefore welcome reminder of the home I missed and all it represented. Old Salem was a replica of the Bethlehem where I had grown up, lost a mother, lost a grandmother and lost a home in many ways. Discovering this place was like discovering a piece of home so many miles from it. A year and two and three later, Winston was the place I first tried Thai food (and Downtown Thai has been my gold standard for Green Curry ever since!), met my husband for the first time in 6 months after he returned home from a lengthy deployment, ended a friendship with several people (in retrospect, for the best) in a crazy brouhaha over a cat, bought my first real violin, ate lunch with a stranger (in a forced seating arrangement at the aforementioned Thai restaurant above) and discovered the beauty of being in an urban center, filled with colleges and culture, yet surrounded by distant mountains.

A long but short year ago, Winston (as my first stop on the journey) was a place that spoke to me of coming home again, this time for different reasons as I, feeling still fresh from a move to Ohio after 6 1/2 years in the Carolinas, drove once more into what I felt was the place that held my heart and maybe my future, stirring up memories and feelings I’d hoped would stay dormant but that refused.

The heart strings are not so tight this year, the memories not so vivid, and the future, muddy as ever, at least now occasionally has a vaguely illuminated path. I may never move south again. This may be the last time I travel regularly to Winston Salem. But I think it may not be the last time I visit. I don’t know where the journey will take me next, but for now, the next six weeks, it will take me deep into the Carolinas, where fall comes gently but with a reverence that has a beauty all its own.


Day One: Finding the Color of Sunset


the branch


the hydrant



the bench


the wall


the grass


the red flower


the city