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YES, I'M MOST DEFINITELY HOME AGAIN...
but I forgot to show you these pictures I took while at Biltmore.




















I like these photos, and think they're rather artistic...you know, artistic photographs of an artist who's rendering an artistic representation of another artist's fine-art sculpture.




Of course, artwork of every kind was in great abundance there at Biltmore. Lest you think this painter might have had a shortage of sculpted work from which to choose, let me quickly rid you of that notion.




George was not one to skimp.
















(Though I'm skimping here with photos to prove it, the statues and busts and other carved works that George seemed to crave [don't know if he actually craved them, but yipee for the anagram] are as plentiful as ants at a picnic.)


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Believe it!


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I INVITED THE LITTLE ACTOR OVER TODAY to discuss some of the latest ideas I've had for movie production. He didn't help me strategize much, but was pretty amenable to everything I suggested. Early on in our planning session, we took a break for dinner, during which he had his first taste of Garlic Mashed Potatoes. "Here's a little exercise in acting," I told him. "Act like these potatoes are just about the yummiest thing you ever did eat!"



Dear Viewer, do you find his performance convincing?



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MORNING, NOON, AND (almost) NIGHT.

Lots of this:















and this:














sometimes things like this:















once or twice, this:















overall, this:



GOING HOME.

(Notice how we passed that car like it was
sittin' still? My chauffeur likes that good
old bluegrass music. It gives him a heavy
foot.)

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JUST A SHORT .7 MILE a pied TO THE TOP of the world,
during which my camera took matters into its own hands
(sigh) once again.



I wrested control with this 360-degree view at Craggy Pinnacle, Blue Ridge Parkway, second day of June, 2010: the scene every bit as impressive as all the man-made sights of Asheville. (Sorry, George. I hope you would've agreed, Napoleon's chess set notwithstanding.)



I had to send my hiking companions out of the picture (so they wouldn't distract, you know). They grumbled a bit, but obligingly absented themselves
until summoned back. (One might suppose they are
always so docile; one might suppose.)
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In spite of the cool and overcast sky (we followed a rain shower to the top of the mountain), it was hard to leave that high point. We got hungry, however,and didn't feel like scrounging for berries and wildlife.














So instead we made our way down the mountain and had this:
a fabulous vegetarian meal.









---------------------------And this (but only for the half of our party who live in Asheville, and not the half spending their final night at the motel, tossing things into suitcases and preparing for an early morning departure.)






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AH, MY SOUTHERN VACATION...here's more of it (mostly photos, fewer words, because, after all, I'm still busy here in Asheville doing lots of things I can only do here, and eating lots of food I can only eat here, and not doing the things I can 'not do' any place at all). And now that I've mentioned food...







(I'm sorry, please forgive me if I say ah once again...or even ahhhhh. I can't help it, I've been missing this good ole biscuit-eating way of life; and, woe is me, I didn't think to show you the plates of food my chauffeur stowed away!)











We ate the famously good food at 12 Bones, where the very Barack and his wife Michelle hung out with our daughter and her boyfriend a few weeks ago. (Uh, huh...at adjacent tables!)

"The wait line stretches out the door no matter when you come," says Caroline. "And that was BEFORE Obama!"






So, then to the Arboretum, with the many plants and flowers




of the colorful and the bonsai sort,
and the carefully trimmed and shaped;

not to mention miles of this,

and some of that,


and a little of this.
And...after that...
back to the four-acre house--you know, Reader Dear, the one where the builders said goodbye to George and put away their tools in 1895, finished with the four floors and the 250 rooms and the 65 fireplaces and the 43 bathrooms and the bowling alley and swimming pool. Still don't know which one I mean? The one with Napoleon's chess set in the salon, okay? Yes, Biltmore --most humongous private house in the nation!

It just so happens there are gardens there, too. (What a surprise, huh?)




































Two conservatories.
Acres and acres of landscaped gardens.
Thousands of acres of open meadows, wooded mountains, a river, small lakes, vineyards...hmm, you get the idea, do you not? I can only give you a few glimpses.


___________________________________And here's the final one: wild Vanderbilt geese.



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