The storm had dropped two inches of snow on the mountain. The sky was clear blue and very bright with the white blanket of snow on the ground and clinging in the boughs of the evergreens and hardwood trees. I got a fire going in the stove. The innkeeper brought me steaming hot coffee. I walked outside in the new snow and got my first clear look at the inn, a rough-hewn wooden structure thoughtfully built to blend in with the surrounding woods.
Wide porches wrap around the main building, offering an excellent view of the surrounding mountains.
After breakfast, Isabella and I hiked the five-mile trail up Springer Mountain. The snow was soft and dry and blew like glistening dust in the cool breeze. At the summit we read the plaque explaining that this was the southern terminus of the 2,000-mile Appalachian Trail. That afternoon I sat by the fire reading while Isabella chatted with the Innkeeper about recipes for peach cobbler and growing wild berries. At dinner we talked with a thin, bearded young man who had arrived that afternoon.