Gold in them thar hills...

About that "gold" dust I've seen glimmering in the sun every day since we first looked at this house...  How do you tell if it's gold or some monetarily worthless mineral like mica or iron pyrite?

I've been going off the assumption that the very very fine glittery specks in the soil are mica.  I mean, it's me we're talking about and I just wouldn't have the luck to be sitting on top of a big ol' gold vein here in these Georgia hills, right?

But it's sure pretty to have the gold sheen on top of our red Georgia clay soil.  And it's fun to dream about being the next Beverly Hillbillies!  Maybe the History Channel would even give me my own series...

Not to let that bubble inflate too much:  It will probably turn out not to be gold but there are a couple of intriguing tidbits I've discovered in recent days that are just enough to open that window of doubt and make me wonder.

First tidbit:  About 10 days ago we made a wrong turn out with Derek's mom in search of a Starbucks and headed off in a generally southwestern direction from here.  I'm kind of directionally challenged so I should add a disclaimer that I *think* it was south and west we were going but there's no guarantee that's a fact.  A few miles out we passed a road and its big green sign said GOLD MINE ROAD.

So... we've established that there is a nearby gold mine.  And by all appearances a working gold mine.

Then, last night, preparing for a job interview I was reading a little of the history of Kennesaw Mountain.  Turns out it's got more than a Civil War battle among its claims to fame!

Thars gold in them thar hills!!

Second tidbit: The Kennesaw Mountain National Battlesite Park's website said that when President Andrew Jackson ignored the law and forced the Cherokee to leave here for Oklahoma (that needs to be a whole different post!) settlers moved in based on gold claims in Dahlonega.  The website went on to call this America's first gold rush.

Now we've established a second nearby gold mining site.

It's getting more intriguing, isn't it?

I think I need to gather up a few of these specks and find out just what it is we've got here!

Rain

It's raining.

Again...

I'll be excited to get some grass growing so that every storm doesn't make the back yard into a giant mud puddle.  There's standing water everywhere someone has stepped or there's the slightest shallow spot.  This red clay soil just doesn't drain.

And then the dogs, which we pick up day after tomorrow, will bring in loads of mud...

The grass that was seeded right before we closed on buying the house is starting to come in.  I'm kind of surprised at how much is coming up after this much time.  I thought maybe it had all been washed away or drowned in the rains about 10 days ago or been blown off in the wind before the rains or that the multitude of birds and squirrels had found it a tasty little munchie.  It's still a little sparse but maybe there's more hope for it than I had thought.

Just before dark tonight it was raining so hard it looked like fog out through our woods.  I remarked to a friend that it was the perfect setting for a horror movie.  She doesn't like scary stuff at all so she didn't find that idea amusing.  Still, I was sort of mesmerized by the hazy look in all those trees that are just greening up.  I wish there would have been enough light to have taken a photo but it was truly right on the edge of nightfall.

It seems like it's been raining a lot the last few weeks here in northern Georgia.  Maybe rain is normal for Spring in the South (it's my first Spring here so I don't know) but these dark threatening skies and damp cold are exactly the kind of weather that make me want to climb back into bed and huddle under the covers and a get lost in the fanciful imaginings of a good book instead of venturing out into all the things the world is bidding me to do.

The folks over at the Kennesaw Mountain Battlefield have hinted before that the mist and fog makes for some great pictures on the Mountain.  I can imagine that it is even more hauntingly beautiful since I get distracted every time we drive through there wondering what tales those trees would tell if they could speak.  What would they say about those young men who sought the promise of adventure in war?  What would they tell of sheltering men, scared and hungry and cold and far from home's comfort, in their limbs?  Or maybe they'd whisper otherwise forgotten last words in a reverent awe that can only be born from watching men die?  Or perhaps even of relief and overwhelming joy in long anticipated homecomings at one of the little farm sites?

Maybe I should write a novel.

Or, maybe I'm just overly sentimental and caught up in mood-fitting old song lyrics today, too.

See the clouds they're giving life below
In colors that the canvas cannot show;
Keeping secrets no one else could know
For I'm the one who told them so.

David Gates, from Clouds & Rain Suite