When I was in the eighth grade, we moved to a small farm in Lee County Virginia. Our farm was down a long, long gravel road, back in what the locals called a holler. The path to our front door was down a steep hill. We drove straight through a small creek and into our yard. That little place was lush and beautiful, nestled in the tiniest of valley at the foot of very steep hills - or I guess mountains.

Our water was spring water that came right out of the side of the mountain, and into the little creek that traversed our drive. It was the background music to our lives there. Next to the creek was a large weeping willow, and beyond that was a beautiful tranquil pond. We watched the dragon flies dart across the water, and the tadpoles transform. Behind our house was the rest of our property, which jutted harshly right up the side of the mountain.

Besides our white ranch house tucked in the back corner against the base of the mountain, there were various out-buildings scattered about on the property. I remember a barn another open garage type of building and a root cellar. I was fascinated with the root cellar. It was a very small building dug into the side of the mountain. I opened the door to three dirt walls lined with shelves and old abandoned canned goods. There was also an ice house, a small one. It once house the large blocks of ice needed to fill an old-fashioned icebox and it smelled of sawdust. All of the buildings were made of the weathered grey would that is common in that part of the country.

There was a dirt road that twisted its way to the top of the mountain. In the summer months the side of the mountain would be covered in blackberries, more than we could ever hope to pick. I loved to climb to the top of the mountain and sit. You could see for miles, rolling hill upon rolling hill, and in the distance, the White Rocks. The White rocks were stunningly gorgeous cliffs far in the distance. They were one of the landmarks the early settlers would look for on their way to Cumberland Gap - just up the road.

That little farm back in the holler held a wealth of beauty that belied its size.