July 2026, North Georgia/NC
This summer, I don’t go to Franklin for the gem shows. Since 2018, it’s been a major seasonal event for me, only skipping over one year because of the pandemic. However, I passed through the town on the 4th of July and had another kind of insightful experience.
DRAINED SWAMP
The upper lake looked more like a meadow
I strained my upper back and shoulder while on my first day canvassing. Afternoon heat and pressure from hours standing took their toll. Someone told me that I must hate America.
A few days before this, I was driving back to North Carolina from near Atlanta, Georgia, via the western route through the mountains.
July 4th, like other holidays, can be a good day for a road trip – there is less traffic, and decorations are on display.
This week marks 250 years since the signing of the Declaration of Independence, and July 4th falls on a Saturday, so celebrations are a little bigger.
I often call July 4 “Interdepence day” and meditate on the connections between lands, nations, cultures, and our current situations. So there is a lot to think about, as I drive through valleys, foothills, scattered storms, and memories.
UNCLE SAM INFLATABLES sway beside the highway, near crossroads with gas stations, where fuel prices have dipped over recent weeks. On the big lake, boats zoom and float in the sunshine as a man cooks food under a tent next to a nearby road. A heat dome has covered the region, and we’re ready for it to break. Earlier, I played “Lake of Fire” and sang along; now I’m listening to Sandi Patti’s opulent version of “Star-Spangled Banner.”
Talula, Talula, I don’t want to lose her
-Tori Amos, “Talula”
At Tallulah Gorge overlook, I stop to stretch, look out, and look back. Back in the 2000s, I came here from Atlanta, stood here, and bought a set of beaded earrings at a shop that is no longer here. A vacant row of storefronts sits silently along the loop road; one shop at the edge remains open, with an “Official Bigfoot crossing” mural on the building side. While unaware of any Bigfoot legends or reported sightings* in this area, I know about the high-wire artist Karl Wallenda‘s skywalk above the gorge in 1970. A group of travelers walk by and take photos, speaking a language I don’t immediately recognize. The river falls far below in the gorge, yet still visible to my eyes.
*Apparently, there was a reported sighting near Tallulah Falls, in 2012, of an unidentified “6-foot cinnamon-colored animal,” listed on the BFRO site, which I found in a search. So that explains it…
Back on the road, dark clouds pass over, bringing quick rain near the state line. When I arrive in Franklin, the temperature has cooled. Along Main St, there are two displays: one of a US flag hanging from two truck cranes, with a sign listing the “Ten Commandments” below it. Looking to the southwest, the beautiful blue-toned mountains rise in the background. On the ground in front sits another sign saying “artificial flowers.” On top of a small business on the same block, a skeleton dog figure stands, wearing red, white, and blue and holding beads of stars in its mouth. The juxtaposition of all of this says so much about the prevailing culture and where we are now.
NOKWISIYI
There once was a town, now only a mound
Gen. Griffith Rutherford led the way in early September 1776, as part of the Cherokee-American settler wars on the frontier. The Revolutionary War had begun, and colonial settlements were pushing west. In response to this invasion, Cherokee groups pushed back (to describe it simply).
In retaliation, Rutherford and multiple militia marched across western NC, burning towns along the way. Nokwisiyi was one of more than 30 Cherokee towns destroyed. The route he traveled became known as “Rutherford’s Trace.” (There is a historical marker on US-23/441, near Dillsboro, about this.)
Nokwisiyi (“Star place”)was then rebuilt, and Cherokee life continued here until the 1830s. This mound became the only surviving structure of the town. Franklin developed around it, and almost consumed it, but the mound has ultimately been preserved.
As of February 2026, the Cherokee Eastern Band (ECBI) has regained ownership of Nikwasi/Noquisi mound. A new historical kiosk has been built next to Main St. The Noquisi Initiative has more information.
I walk around the mound, thankful for the breeze, rain, and clouds. Also, I’m glad the mound has been preserved and part of tribal land again, 250 years since the town was burned by Rutherford and his men.
THERE AROSE A GREAT TEMPEST
Around 4:30 pm, I reach my destination in Asheville. Entering Gladheart Farm on the gravel road, I am greeted by an intense thunderstorm that continues for nearly an hour and includes pellets of hail. I’m glad to have made it to a safe place! After some time waiting in the car, a woman runs over, drenched in rain, and asks if I’m here with a delivery.
In a way, yes – I’m here to meet with my friend, T, who was traveling and hiking, but is now living/working on the farm with the community. They have a market on Sunday mornings. There is plenty about the religious group behind the farm that I don’t like, but my friend is happy here, and everyone that I talk with is kind.
There is a sense of timelessness here at the farm; as the rain pours down, the stone path becomes a waterfall, and community members stand on the covered patio and watch. None seems to know the weather forecast or acknowledges that today is July 4th. We introduce ourselves and share a bit of our stories. When the rain stops, I walk with my friend around the beautiful, peaceful farm.
Soon, the evening community gathering begins, and my friend invites me to attend. I politely decline, and we say goodbye.
For more details about Gladheart Farm:
https://www.twelvetribes.org/community/asheville-farm
I have visited a 12 Tribes community in the past – when my friend lived there – and stayed overnight on a sabbath with no issues. They are less judgemental than some other Christian groups. But my path goes a different way, and there is no chance I would give it up for them.
Fortunately, another friend in the area had plans that fell through, so she invites me to visit her at home. By this time, the sky is mostly clear, evening will come soon, and fireworks are imminent. We have dinner and enjoy the sunset on her front porch, next to a blooming mimosa tree.
From the yard on a hill by a road, glowing, dendritic explosions can be seen in multiple directions. As expected, they continue for over an hour. I appreciate the beauty as they artfully light the landscape.
Others are just loud bangs, and dogs react. Lights and pops come in all directions. It’s beautiful, but also sensory overload. Plus, I imagine the trash being generated tonight – and fires that will inevitably start somewhere.
After a restful night, I depart and go to hike at Big Laurel Creek in the Pisgah Forest as a way to celebrate US public lands on this holiday.
The trailhead is crowded with people on this warm, sunny Sunday. Some bathe in the small river; some hike. It’s an area mostly spared by Helene, a place I last visited in 2009. This time, I follow the trail to a spot of solitude and step into the water to my knees, over rocks, beside a blooming mimosa tree.
This “mimosa” is probably a non-native plant species, I later learn. And part of the Big Laurel trail is now on private land. But maybe it’s about intentions.
From here on, it’s a ride through the mundane, with a side quest in a faerie glen. Not a tempest this afternoon, just a gentle rain. Traffic at this gas station includes a truck pulling a carnival float, and I’m mixed up in it. What a weekend it must have been.
EPILOGUE
THE CARNIVAL IS OVER, Interdepence day is done, July will be gone soon. Let it go, cruel summer, get the balance right; come on, full Buck Moon.
Rain helps raise the low lake levels, a little. It’ll get better, eventually. It could take a season, a year, a generation… or maybe on a larger scale, it won’t… think of the Colorado.
“Mother Earth loves us,” I say aloud at Big Laurel. To ‘love America’ is to love the Earth, the land, its waters. Appreciating public lands, history, our worldly connections.
Doing what we can, hoping for more.
Happy full moon.
My arm is sore.
LINKS:
Advocate for our public lands: https://www.tpl.org/
https://www.lcv.org/issues/public-lands-and-waters/
Chaco Canyon preservation (ends 7/29) https://give.lcv.org/a/2026julnmactchaco-4
Noquisi Initiative (Nikwasi Mound)
MUSIC:
Nirvana – Lake of Fire
https://youtu.be/b_741PwcOhE?si=WBP-WEMLP3wjAkPF
Sandi Patty – Star-Spangled Banner, 1986
Tori Amos – Talula
Laurie Anderson – O Superman
Until next time,
Arianna
arianna's creative travels 