A Birding Trail, but not when a certain Foxhound is with us.

The day dawned gloriously and our Foxhound knew it. The first whimpers were heard before we had finished our coffees at the late hour of 0730. We somehow kept him at “bay” (pun intended) until a little past 0900 when he climbed into the wagon all smug, knowing he had “won.”

Always in the lead. Never knowing to where he is “leading.”

A decent almost 7km wander around the many trails took up past historic farmhouses and rustic scenery. An idyllic outing, really.

Along the French Broad River.

Maybe Goldenrod and Meadow Sweet?

Lunch was our new norm of a packed picnic, and then it was back to working on the homestead.  Is it obvious that I am so over setting up the house by now, and just want to lock the door and go explore?