Searching for the Elusive White Squirrel

Posted on December 1, 2016 by mspero

By Dani Halliday, 2016

White squirrel in mural descends upon Dani.

There was a heavy chill in the air that clung to our bones. A thin fog hovered above the ground of the Brevard College campus, making the empty campus feel abandoned and creepy. We were here for a reason and would not leave without seeing the elusive white squirrel of Brevard.

Images of white squirrels were everywhere in the tiny mountain town of Brevard, NC. There was a white squirrel store, white squirrel statues in the hotels, white squirrel forms on the traffic lights, and even a giant mural of a white squirrel diving into a pile of nuts painted on the side of a restaurant.

The white squirrels weren’t residents of the town initially, but according to the Transylvania Times (the local newspaper of Brevard and other towns in Transylvania county), a carnival truck overturned in 1949, releasing two white squirrels with gray streaks down their backs into the wild of the Great Smoky Mountains. The squirrels were found by Mr. Black, who found them eating in his pecan grove. Black passed these squirrels to H. H. Mull, who subsequently passed them along to his niece, Barbara, to attempt to breed them, which failed. Eventually, one of the squirrels escaped and then Barbara released the other. Breeding apparently was easier in the wild of the mountains because now there are significantly more white squirrels than the original two. In 1986, the white squirrels became a protected species in Brevard with a vote by the Brevard City Council stating that is “shall be unlawful for any person to hunt, kill, trap, or otherwise take any protected squirrels within the city.” This law does not extend to the non-white squirrels of the area, though. While there are other white squirrel sightings in other states, such as Kentucky and Illinois, only Brevard holds a White Squirrel Festival every May.

Main Campus of Brevard College.

The receptionist at the Holiday Inn we had stayed in the night before recommended the college campus as the place where we would most likely find these rare creatures. We set out into the brisk 35-degree air at 9:00 am to begin our search.

We scoured the campus, which housed only 729 students, seeing beautiful brick buildings, massive trees, and copious amounts of brown squirrels, yet no people or white squirrels. Brevard College is a private, four-year institution, home to the Tornadoes. It stands on the outskirts of downtown Brevard, a prime location, and is about 120-acres. These are 120 acres that white squirrels can roam free on without any fear for their safety.

White squirrel poses for his picture.

We passed underneath a clock tower which was built with bricks engraved with names from back in the 1900s. The brick buildings, white pillars, and trees scattered around campus reminded me of Elon on a much more rural scale. We wandered aimlessly around campus scanning the ground and the trees for a flash of white. We knew they were out there. We would find one.

Finally we saw it. It hopped around the ground, standing out a stark white streaked with gray against the fallen yellow and brown leaves and the dark green grass. It looked just like any other squirrel: same tail, same twitching nose, same large dark eyes—except for the white fur of course. We had to wonder as we followed the creature, much too close for its liking, whether the white squirrels were treated differently by their brown squirrel brethren. Were they allowed near the other squirrels? Did the white squirrels act as an exclusive group and not let the brown squirrels into their white squirrel club? These were questions only the white squirrels could answer for us, yet our friend had darted up a tree, out of sight.

Exploring Franklin Pumpkin Festival

Posted on December 1, 2016 by mspero

By Dani Halliday, 2016

Funnel cake, pumpkin bread, fresh local honey, and frog legs were all available for purchasing and eating at the 20^th Annual Franklin Pumpkin Festival. This festival is famous for the pumpkin roll, where residents and visitors buy a pumpkin to enter in a race to see what pumpkin can get down the hill in one piece the fastest.

There is so much to do during this festival. Various local organizations and businesses set up under tents lining the streets. People walk around with their children and dogs, both often dressed in costumes. Hot beverages are sold at the general store, which is where we stopped before venturing into the crowd. There were food trucks, local baked goods, and artisan dips and butters sold in various booths. One man was selling honey from his personal bees. Sam and Molly bought honey sticks and I decided to try a quick taste of the sourwood honey, which wasn’t actually sour. Local craftsmen displayed their wares in their tents. There were hand knit scarves, hand-made jewelry, pottery, paintings, and more.

unspecified-2 — Tents of local vendors line street during Franklin Pumpkin Festival.

Food and pumpkins were not the only attraction on the streets of Franklin on this day. There was plenty of entertainment available. Music blasted from speakers at the gazebo on the green. There were bouncy houses at one end and pony rides at the other. Molly and I debated asking for a ride (each pony could hold about 180 pounds) but two children were waiting, and we needed to look like adults. There was also a dog costume contest, where local pups dressed in their Halloween best to win a trophy. My favorite was the Golden Retriever dressed as a lion. There was also a dachshund in a hotdog costume, a tiny Chihuahua dressed as Woody from Toy Story, and a Pitbull mix dressed as a dinosaur.

The pumpkin eating contest was our last stop during the Franklin Pumpkin Festival. There were two heats: a kid’s heat and an adult heat. The announcer handed ponchos out to each contestant (for cleanliness) and they piled mounds of whipped cream on top of each pie. The contestants had only a minute to eat as much pie as possible and then the pies were weighed to see who ate the most. The winner of each heat won $20. During the kid’s heat, there was a tie! The announcer pulled another $20 out his own wallet so they both could get the prize.

The Pumpkin Festival was everything that we hoped for and more. We wished we could have stayed longer, but Highway 64 was calling and we had to head on to Highlands for lunch.

Car Ride to Murphy

Posted on December 1, 2016 by mspero

By Dani Halliday, 2016

Dani, Molly, Christian, and Sam pose at the Highway 64 sign on the border of NC and TN.

Our day began at 8:00 am with a quick stop in Dunkin Donuts. With our stomachs full of coffee and breakfast sandwiches (two in Molly’s case), we pulled onto I-40 to start the 300 mile journey to Murphy, North Carolina in the Great Smoky Mountains.

It took about an hour for Molly and Sam to fall asleep in the back seat, leaving Christian and me to watch the road. As miles passed by, the temperature began to drop from a cool 55 degrees to a brisk 37 degrees. It was the coolest it had been all month, with the average heat hovering in the mid to high 70’s all month long. Drops fell from the sky for minutes at a time, but nothing of any concern as my trusty Hyundai Elantra cruised down the road.

The mountains rose out of the ground, welcoming us as we approached Highway 64. The Smokies are much more inviting that other mountains, specifically the Rockies. The Rockies look exactly how they sound: rocky. They are full of harsh edges and steep slopes. Grays and browns make up the landscape of the western mountains range, but this is not the case of the Smokies. The trees erased all the sharp edges, making them look cushioned and soft. You could not even see the ground through the thick covering of fall foliage that hadn’t yet let go of their branches. It was such an amazing sight, watching the trees burst into color as we drove closer and closer to the mountains. The leaves in Elon hadn’t changed yet, even though it was late October. The unnatural heat of the season prevented autumn from emerging at school. It was a welcome change.

As we drove closer and closer to the mountains, the trees became leaner, taller, and more closely packed together. Their branches reached up towards the sky, like sunflowers, trying to break through the thick coverings provided by their fellow trees. Fir trees appeared more and more along the side of the road. Sam and Molly woke up as we reached our exit and the excitement was palpable. We were all ready to get to Murphy for food and to finally be on the highway that we had heard so much about these past few months.

Our exit onto Highway 64 appeared towards Hendersonville appeared to the left after about three hours of driving. The road was similar to I-40 for a long while, until about another hour had passed. We were finally in the mountains. The road wound around the mountains, up and down, making some of my passengers feel relatively car sick, but the views were worth the stomach pain. While I have never lived in the mountains, I couldn’t help but feel like I was back in Connecticut. The fir trees were fewer, and the roads narrower, but the bright oranges, reds, and yellows brought the same sense of autumn. Handmade signs advertising boiled peanuts, homemade jams and jellies, as well as local honey were scattered along the side of the road. Ramshackle stands for selling these wares seemed closed, even though it was only early afternoon on a Friday. It only took about an hour and a half to pull into Murphy, right across from the town hall. It was finally time to start our research.

Toys of Appalachia

Posted on November 24, 2014 by mreilova

By Rachel Fishman – 2014

After being told by a Brasstown local that we could see a gorgeous panorama of the town from the hill above the shop-lined main street on Highway 64, we could not resist. As we turned up Emily Lane and drove the short, but steep incline to the top, we realized that we were on someone’s personal property. Parking our car in what seemed to be a small parking lot, we got out and looked around to see if we were truly in the outlook spot promised to us by the townsperson. Before we had much time to figure anything out, we were greeted by Carol–a spunky, sweet-voiced, middle-aged Southern woman.

Carol is the owner of Hill Gallery & Working Studios, the place that we had apparently stumbled upon. After learning that we were visitors, she eagerly invited us onto the porch to explain a bit of Brasstown history before launching into her family’s role in the town. Because of the deeply rooted Appalachian culture, she explained that there are some unique items that can be found in the mountains, especially toys. Taking us inside, Carol gave us a rundown of some of the most famous toys of Appalachia, including the Whimmy Diddle—a toy which her husband is a worldwide champion for playing.

A Whimmy Diddle is a ribbed stick that you rub together with a smooth one to produce a sound along the lines of “Gee-Haw.” This Appalachian toy has been used by the Hill Gallery & Working Studios owners for competitions and personal entertainment, in addition to being sold in their store. It has been the focus of many different types of benefit competitions that they put on for various charities last October, November, and December. Carol excitedly explained that the winner of these competitions gets a moon pie, an RC Cola, and a certificate of participation.

To play the Whimmy Diddle, it requires that you to hold the top stick with one hand like a pencil, with your thumb on one side of the top stick and your pointer finger on the top. The other hand holds the bottom stick in place. You then must drop your pointer finger slightly to the opposite side while letting your thumb hit the stationary bottom stick, rubbing it back and forth across the stick to produce the intended sound. Katie tried it out, making slight alterations to her hand placement per Carol’s suggestions until she got a sound that more closely resembled the one coming from Carol’s sticks. Much to our excitement, we even got a special demonstration from the Whimmy Diddle champion himself, a man to which Carol endearingly referred to as “my mountain man.”

The difficulty of achieving the right sound far surpassed what would have been expected. Carol explained, “You know, it’s just like riding a bike or anything. You just have to practice, and it becomes a piece of cake.” However, after learning that it is created using a mathematical formula and a consideration of not only the type but also the condition of wood that is used, the “simplicity” of the toy was quickly wiped away.

The reason for promoting the Whimmy Diddle and the other types of Appalachian toys in their store represents a desire to keep the Appalachian culture alive. Carol explains that they are trying to teach children that they don’t need a computer or other forms of technology to have fun—the expertise of the Appalachian toy creators makes simple toys largely entertaining.

Turn a Corner, Discover Bridal Veil Falls

Posted on November 24, 2014 by mreilova

By Rachel Fishman – 2014

When you’re driving along the winding roads of Highway 64, nestled between the lush trees of the mountains, it is easy to expect beauty around every corner. From breathtaking panoramas of treetops so vast that they seem to be never-ending broccoli crowns, to narrow canopied roads that only emit stripes of sunshine intermittently, the scenery never disappoints. It would seem easy to become blind to the beauty a couple hours into a trip, but the mountain region of Highway 64 never gets old. Every so often, however, you round the corner and are struck by a site so majestic that it momentarily makes the rest of the scenery seem (somewhat) more ordinary.

You’ll experience one of these unbelievable moments when you’re driving between Franklin and Highlands. The cascading waterfall of Bridal Veil Falls reveals itself to the passerby around a corner much like any other. Spouting out a large stream of water that falls over an arched section of the road, this approximately 50-foot-high waterfall provides a respite for drivers from the windy turns down the mountain. You just have to pull off to one side of the arch, park your car, and step out into the sprinkling beauty. You can walk all the way around the arch, behind the fall, and let yourself be misted and refreshed.

The walking path you’ll enjoy behind the waterfall used to be part of Highway 64 itself. This route required drivers to slow down before hitting the falls and cautiously drive behind them. The difficulty and danger that ensued diminished the outlook of the falls as a beautiful piece of scenery. During the winters, the snow and ice caused the falls to freeze over, which you could imagine would be a huge safety hazard. In Franklin, the Gem & Mineral Shop workers won’t hesitate to warn you that a lot of people have unfortunately fallen off the cliff around that area before the highway was reconstructed.

Bridal Veil Falls is one of the few places that you feel as if you’re among tourists in this mountain region of North Carolina, but not in a bad way. Cars are constantly pulling over, spilling out individuals, couples, families, and groups of friends with cameras at the ready. From newlyweds taking a pit stop along a honeymoon mountain trip, to vacationing families stopping off to let their kids traipse through the water, Bridal Veil Falls is an enjoyable attraction for everyone.

If this part of Highway 64 is not on your itinerary, it is worth taking a detour just to see Bridal Veil Falls. And while you’re at it, stop for half a day in Franklin to wander around the shops and eat some of the delicious food the downtown has to offer. Or, stop in Highlands for a nice meal at one of the local restaurants or inns. The vistas in this part of the mountain region will certainly make the drive to Bridal Veil Falls almost as enjoyable as the destination.

Mountaintop Wine Shoppe

Posted on November 24, 2014 by mreilova

By Alexa Dysch & Rachel Fishman

When Highlands’s locals and visitors alike finds themselves wondering, “Where’s my wine destination?” they need not look further than the Mountaintop Wine Shoppe.

Whether you plan to grab one of their many, and unique, bottles being sold at the front of the store, or prefer to sit in the back with friends and sample wine, you’re in luck! Mountaintop Wineshoppe in Highlands has everything to offer.

Inside, the atmosphere is warm and welcoming, while also being a bit swanky and cool. The wooden floors add to the class of the establishment, but also to the inviting feeling. About forty people can comfortably sit in the back room, either at tables of two, four, or eight, or on one of their plush leather chairs. Although cozy and not necessarily very large, you do not feel like you’re sitting on top of others. The owners, Mike and Christine Murphy, are incredibly easy to strike up a conversation with. They manage to maintain this friendly persona without intruding on customers’ time to wind down and relax.

The first room in the store boasts not only bottles for sale, but also self-service tasting machines. You can buy a “Pour Card” and be able to freely sample the wines of your choosing. At all times, you can choose from 8 reds and 8 whites. If you like the taste, you can try a full glass or even buy the bottle. Mike and Christine make themselves available in case you need a little advice in this decision.

The pairing menu is pretty extensive, with about 20-30 different types of cheeses and meats, both local and global. The wine is listed under the categories of red, white, and reserves, and then further divided by grape variety.

For a change of scenery, customers can take a seat outside and be treated to gorgeous Appalachian views around a blazing fire, while having a glass from a selection of over 500 bottles of wine.

In their first year of business, Mike and Christine Murphy find themselves discovering what works and enjoying the fruits of their labor. They strike the ideal balance between having an upscale business without excluding anyone, including those who are new to wine. Their knowledge of wine is extensive, coupled with a friendly and warm atmosphere. While the Murphys had no previous wine involvement, their business partner brought his previous distribution experience alongside.

From Western North Carolina to Western Florida, visitors from major cities and small towns stop by for great wine and wonderful company. Their varied customer base is a true testament to the population of Highlands. A primary destination for weekend getaways in the fall due to all the “ooh’s-and-ahh’s” of the color-changing trees, Highlands pulls in a large seasonal tourist population. In fact, as we were trying to enjoy the last couple drops of wine in our glasses, Mike explained to us that Highlands has only 2,500 full time residents, yet enough occupancy space for 25,000. And on the 4th of July, Highlands is visited by up to 35,000 people.

The inns in the area cater to this touristy population, providing a prime destination for weddings as well. From outdoor weddings to cozy indoor ceremonies and receptions, the facilities are well-equipped to host a good number of weddings. The Old Edwards Inn hosts 7-12 weddings per weekend! But what about the nights before the wedding day? Mike wanted the Mountaintop Wine Shoppe to be a destination for the wedding goers who travel to the area.

It’s no surprise that since their March opening, they’ve gathered a good local following as well. After a previous wine shop closed down years ago, there was an open void that the Murphys felt they could fill. The reasonable prices and the relaxing atmosphere allow for Highlands’ residents to gather at the shop, without having to treat it only as a “special occasion” event.

The trek through the windy roads along Highway 64 is a worthy adventure to reach this charming town and its wonderful wine destination. The stunning views of Bridal Falls on your way hint at the beauty of what’s to come.

A bottle at Total Wine will cost you the same, but a visit to this local gem is an experience worth more than a bottle of Dom Pérignon.

WineShoppe2 — Owners Mike and Christine Murphy

WineShoppe — The outside of this quaint shop

Not Just Another Days Inn

Posted on November 24, 2014 by mreilova

By Rachel Fishman – 2014

What could have easily been just another Days Inn chain became a valuable source of information, culture, and hospitality for our journey in Murphy. The concierge of the Days Inn along Highway 64 enthusiastically welcomed our group and, despite our 11:00pm arrival time, began to engage us in a lively conversation about our plans for Murphy. She taught us that the Trail of Tears was just down the road and explained the impact of the Cherokee tribes on the culture of Murphy. It would be impossible to stay here without getting suggestions of activities to do and restaurants to try, in addition to a comforting feeling of being welcomed into this lovely small town. These unexpected benefits were amplified by the fact that the hotel was just a 5-10 minute drive away from everywhere you would want to go in Murphy, from the Cherokee History Museum to the Cherokee Cellars Winery.

Our Days Inn Hotel, as pictured on the website

Coffee, Conversation, and Community

Posted on November 24, 2014 by mreilova

By Rachel Fishman – 2014

There’s something in the aroma of fresh roasted coffee that calms the soul and opens up conversation. Sure, the caffeine helps too. But the atmosphere of coffee shops with the smell percolating through the air has an energy all of its own. As the barista expertly creates the perfect consistency of foam on top of a cappuccino and swirls a leaf or heart into the top, everything seems to move at the perfect pace. Frantic, calm, organized chaos. Along with the chatter and commotion, the serenity and the relaxation, comes an air of friendliness (most of the time, at least).

In coffee shops in the mountains of North Carolina, all of this positive energy and friendliness is heightened. When we entered coffee shops for our daily coffee fix and conversation opportunity, we were always greeted with a warm smile. From the ritzier atmosphere in Highlands to the more small-town, mountainous setting of Cashiers, we experienced a wealth of opportunity embedded within the local coffee shops.

Immediately after finding a parking spot along the two-lane, shop-lined main road in Highlands, we headed to Bucks Coffee Cafe. I was determined to get advice from the locals about what not to miss. The cozy rustic atmosphere, heightened with the white walls, comfy leather chairs, and faux taxonomy throughout, provided what I was sure to be the perfect place to get the “insider scoop”. We made our way up to order, apparently already giving off our “outsiderness.” The man behind the counter was in his early 30’s, born and raised in the mountains. Before we had a chance to order our drinks, paying our way into a position where we could pester the employees with questions, he asked us what we were doing in Highlands.

Our explanation of the project proved amusing to him, soliciting a response of Oh, and you expected to find a lot to do here? Well, I guess we should have realized that we would probably not be given the extent of advice we might have been hoping for. Using his sassy comment to segue into asking for things to do, we prodded him for a bit more information. He talked about the shops along the street and the bars in the area. And that was it. The woman who entered in behind us, donning worn combat boots, jeans, and a t-shirt from local bar “The Lost Hiker” reiterated the suggestion of where to go.

In many situations, this would have been enough. But, between the coffee and the mountains, the conversation kept going. The barista called over his friend, who gave almost the same answer, but went into more detail of what to expect drink-wise and clientele-wise in the various bars. Okay, I began to think, we seem to have an accurate picture of the area now. Their eagerness to actually help us find something we were excited to do, coupled with their amusement at our probably unsatisfied expressions, continued the conversation for a few minutes more.

When our cups were empty and our insides warmed, we thanked everyone for their advice and headed out in search of dinner. As we were leaving, the barista hollered towards the door, “We’ll see you all tonight at The Lost Hiker around 11:00!” With a smile and a wave, we all exited, sharing looks insinuating our agreement that we would not, in fact, see them at the bar. We knew that all of our travels would lead us to our beds before then, but we were grateful for the wealth of time and advice.

The next morning we woke up and drove to Cashiers, with even less of an idea of what to do in the three hours we had allotted ourselves. As we entered the town on our beloved Highway 64, we saw antique shop after antique shop lining the road. Unfortunately, they all seemed to be closed since it was a Sunday. Unsure of what to do, we arrived at an intersection in what seemed like the center of the town, and saw it—another Bucks Coffee Cafe.

Hoping we could get the same eagerness to provide information on activities in the town (and get a nice steaming cup of coffee), we decided to go in. This coffee shop boasted the same art from an artist local to North Carolina mountains and had the same white walls and the fake taxidermy, but it was even larger and cozier than the one in Highlands.

Immediately intrigued by both the commotion of people within and the eclectic mix of items scattered around, I paused and surveyed the place. The rustic feel with the wooden tables and central blazing fireplace was enough to warm anyone’s heart and brighten their day. The taxonomy and art added to the cabin-esque atmosphere.

When it was my turn to order, I asked the barista, who seemed to be just a bit older than me, if she had any suggestions of things to do with only a couple hours. Similar to the experience in Highlands, she did not think we would be entertained as tourists, explaining that there’s really not that much going on. The man making my chai latte added in that it would be a shame if we missed the High Hampton Inn Apple Festival. I thanked him for his suggestion, and once again banked on the coffee atmosphere to allow for my continued badgering.

“We actually went to a Bucks Coffee Cafe in Highlands yesterday, I didn’t realize it was a chain,” I shared, hoping for clarification on how many exist. He informed me that these were the only two and that we just happened to get them both back to back, a happy accident. People pass through frequently, but the coffee shop is constantly populated with locals gathering with friends to chat or working on their laptops. Finally, we were directed to the flyer with the details of the apple festival just up the road, and we were off. Once again, we were grateful for the advice and satisfied that our experience in the town would not be lacking of anything that we absolutely needed to see.

So thank you, Bucks Coffee Cafe, for both being an activity and a piece of insight into these mountain towns and a hotbed for ideas of the best activities to do in the area.

A Delicious Chai Latte from the helpful barista

Franklin Altruism

Posted on November 24, 2014 by mreilova

By Rachel Fishman – 2014

From the friendly, conversational shop owners to the business models of many stores, it is clear that Franklin is more than just a small town—it is a community. Most of the antique and consignment stores actually benefit one of the local non-profit organizations, as explained by the woman who volunteered at an antique store attached to the Franklin Historical Museum. This antique store has four separate rooms full of items whose profits go directly to the museum to fund the acquisition of items and the museum’s upkeep. This business model is not abnormal in Franklin, as it is necessary to compensate for the large wealth-gap in the town. Even the vegetables growing on the plant outside the antique store are for the community to share. It is impossible to visit Franklin and not feel that tangible sense of community.

Plants for the public offering “food for free”

An Afternoon in Brasstown

Posted on November 24, 2014 by mreilova

By Katherine Makepeace – 2014

Outdoor art lines the row of shops in Brasstown, NC.

Brasstown – essentially a small strip of local art shops – is a village that is hard to distinguish geographically from the town of Murphy. It is just a short drive from the modern big-box stores and food chains, like Wal-Mart and Starbucks, which are prevalent on the outskirts of Murphy.

After my contemplative walk at the Fields of the Wood Bible Park that morning, peaceful Brasstown carried this serene and reflective momentum through the rest of my afternoon. I quickly grew fond of this place. What initially appeared to be yet another narrow road like all the others along the mountain-stretch of Highway 64 turned out to be a literal splash of local color.

This is because Brasstown, although closely related to Murphy, is distinguishable by its more intimate and pastoral setting – amplified by the vibrant folk art on display in the shop windows, the yard décor lining the sidewalks and garden pathways of the galleries, and the small sitting-nooks enclosed by lush foliage for mid-shopping spree rests. Silva Gallery is painted purple and green, bright works of art peek out from every cranny, and dangling wind chimes and recycled bottles situated on sapling tree branches give this tiny town an ethereal, hippie-like atmosphere.

Without careful observation, one could easily miss the sign that declares the tiny corner gas station the annual site of the New Years Eve Possum Drop. Right up the street from the John C. Campbell Folk School, the shop owners all held workshops and classes, both affiliated with the school and through their own volition to engage the rest of the local community in traditional crafts like bead-making, wool basket-making, alcohol prints, fabric art, pottery, copper plate designs, handmade jewelry, and more.

The lack of pedestrians and shoppers on this day enhanced this intimacy and made it a space where I could engage the artists one-on-one, learn more about their crafts, hear about the artists’ connections to the local Cherokee and Mountaineer histories, and subject myself to further prodding to attend the following day’s Fall Festival across the street. Having grown up in Western North Carolina’s Maggie Valley area, near the state’s other prominent Cherokee reservation, I reveled in the opportunity to pick the brains of those who have passionately maintained the area’s Appalachian traditions, history, and culture without losing sight of the tragic significance of the atrocities experienced by the Natives. One of the storeowners said that an archaeological team discovered that her property is a huge site for Cherokee artifacts and continues to be analyzed today. Another store owner taught my peers and I about Bluebird conservation, inducting us as official Bluebird Rangers, teaching us the art of whimmy-diddling, and informing us about the significance of the land on which her store was built. She took us outside and showed us where soldiers kept watch from this hill, able to easily survey the goings-on of the valley below.

We made many friends that my group members and I would continue to bump into throughout the course of our stay in the Murphy/Brasstown area. I found that it was a lovely place for a relaxing, uncrowded shopping experience, or to transport oneself to a time in which old Appalachian traditions played a more significant role in the daily lives of Murphians.