The story goes that in the late 1800’s a preacher used to come up here to practice his sermons. Since I consider all of the wild to be my church, I felt that going to the practice pulpit of a like-minded soul seemed a fitting conclusion to our southern tour.
“How do you know that?” I asked, expecting some Boy Scout meteorology.
“The app on my phone,” he said almost questioningly as if the only other option to the knowledge would be through psychic ability.
I smiled. “Sorry, I didn’t see you look at that. I just heard you.”
His wife and I laughed. “What did you think I did?” He licked his finger and put to the wind. “Hmm… yeah, about thirty-seven minutes.”
Despite his app’s warning, Tucker and I bid the family farewell so we could keep walking up into the mountains. I feel safer walking under the trees in a forest than driving on the interstate in my truck during a sudden Georgia downpour. This tree seems to feel safe walking through the forest too.