Momma Was A Rolling Stone

I am a rolling stone.  I married a rolling stone.  We have such meaningful times always going to look around the bend.  There is so much beauty to see.  We saw several waterfalls yesterday, lost on a back road where we were in three states in less than 30 minutes.  In one deep hollow hosting a winding stream we came upon an old homestead, Russell the old sign said.  In the 1800’s he had driven cattle to Sacramento California, sold them, sewed the gold coins in his vest so he wouldn’t get robbed, and came back to North Carolina to settle this hardscrabble farm deep in the Appalachians.  Only remnants remained, an old spring house, a few outbuildings, and three corners of what was once a fine home were all that was left.  Miles from nowhere and no one; here we were, two rolling stones rolling along the path of another one.  God is good.  All the time.  God is good.   

old spring house with Hounder