“Come join us in the living treetops, where the winds of spirit blow wild and free.” ~ Ken Carey, Return of the Bird Tribes As twilight falls at Treetops, I catch a glimpse out the kitchen window of a lone reclining deer resting under the thicket behind the house. The wind stirs softly among the edge of this forest, and the hazel, wild cherry, oak and pine trees sway to the melody of the mystical breeze. The birds’ songs accelerate, getting louder and reaching a crescendo pitch, then like the crickets and cicadas choir, suddenly stop. Night falls dark and gentle and the whipoorwill calls out whispers of hope, songs of love. The wind speaks to us, clearing >>
Early in the morning when the mist rolls over the Great Smoky mountains, the cool summer breeze fills the open windows of my cottage and brings Nature’s peaceful wake up call.