Moses Cone Memorial Park

Last Wednesday, I attempted a miraculous feat - taking not one, but two TIP classes on a field trip, and a hefty one at that. We took our combined 30 students on the longest hike our class had been on - 5.5 miles roundtrip - at Moses Cone Memorial Park, the old homestead of a couple that dabbled in both textiles and conservation. Without any descendants, their land was eventually granted to the state for outdoor recreation purposes. Somehow, the stars aligned that day and everything went smoothly. In fact, the presence of another class that was comprised primarily of pretty girls was an amazing calming influence on our rowdy boys, who were too busy impressing the ladies to misbehave. It was like magic. And it was wonderful.

Our first stop was the burial place of Moses and Bertha Cone, less than a mile up the trail. The students packed in their own lunches (we'll maintain positive thoughts and not mention the associated complaining), and we all parked it under a big tree to enjoy a break and the beautiful scenery.

After sandwiches were consumed and trash packed up (again we won't dwell on the ensuing complaining), we got back on the trail, complete with plenty of impressive overlooks and interesting (to me anyway) plant life. 

After about 2.5 miles of hiking (and many, many iterations of student: "are we there yet?" me: "nope, keep walking") we finally arrived at our final destination - an observation tower from which you could see all of Boone and far, far beyond. It was very high and very small, so yours truly orchestrated a line to let students climb up a few at a time. After they had exhausted their fascination with its heights, I took a turn, too. The climb and the height was a little unnerving, but the views were well worth it.  

I led the hike up the mountain, so Josh took the lead on the way down and I dawdled, taking pictures of any little living thing that caught my attention.  

The hills are a peaceful place, especially when the possibility of young love keeps would-be mischievous boys at bay. We spent our last day as a class at a place that was equally, but very differently, peaceful -ASU's farm, an organic farm run by students in the university's sustainable development program. All farm practices are grounded firmly in ecology and the understanding that the most healthy systems are very diverse and require few, if any, artificial inputs. Healthy farms are places where the cows graze the fields and the chickens sanitize them, snacking on fly larvae in the cow-patties; where insect pests can't find their favorite snack because they get lost in a rain forest of other vegetables; and where pigs, rummaging through the remains of those various vegetables, participate in a composting process that's actually aromatically pleasing.

When we arrived on the farm, we did a walking tour of the land, including a garden, mobile chicken coop, cow pasture, and pre-civil war farmhouse and barn, and witnessed sustainable farming in practice. Then, we got to (or had to, according to a few girls who lacked an affinity for dirt) help with the upcoming garlic harvest. This could have been my favorite field trip of all; it's too bad those pretty girls from the other class weren't there to make the boys behave. To their credit, it was a hot day, a farm is an exciting place, and I did employ them in some unexpected manual labor. 

About 52% of me would like to move to a farm nestled in the dense vegetation of the Appalachian foothills and never leave. The rest of me is already enjoying the coast (more on that soon!).