Well clearly this hasn’t been adequately thought out. The post that follows features some snaps taken during spring break, from the Folk Art Center just off the Blue Ridge Parkway, where local artisans of Appalachian descent showcase their work, to a split-rail fence near the birthplace of Zebulon Vance, one-time American (aka “Know Nothing”) Party candidate, slave owner, governor and Progressive. Most of these images require little narrative– what’s that last one in the top row? A barn and a defunct silo.– though you might be interested to know that Obama ate at 12 Bones while on his campaign. The last picture in row 3 and the first on row 4 offer a sample of what he might have eaten. For you Left Coast hippie types raised on bean curd and organic lichen, that’s a half-rack of pork ribs, cornbread, collard greens and grits, all to be washed down with a 32 ounce glass of sweet tea. The dog was lurking about looking pathetic but we didn’t feed him.
Asheville is a remarkable town– some actually call it “the San Francisco of the south” despite the fact that there aren’t too many leather daddies in ass-less chaps grinding to Shakira on a float made of inflated condoms– a haven for tuberculars, artists, hypochondriacs and rich tourists in the early 20th century (F. Scott Fitzgerald spent some time there while Zelda, his wife, crawled the walls of a local asylum) and now what is generally acknowledged as a pocket of liberality in a region usually (and often erroneously) derided as backwards.