Springtime in the Smokies

It is the morning of spring, and a cool earth arises from the long sleep of winter. Pale wildflowers cross the mountains with pink and lilac hues; tender stems and leaves push upward through dark, loamy soil. 

There is a certain air to the mountain spring, as though it were a reenactment of Creation, when God in His infinite imagination molded the Earth and it's bounty. Spring is the beginning. The season is a cool breath across the face of the mountains, a season to return throughout all eternity to the Smokies.

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