Fell in Love

The Asheville Adventure began last October when I visited a friend in Asheville North Carolina. For the past few years I have been planning to move out of Oakland, visiting a variety of cities to test their "fit" but none felt right.  Portland was too grey and damp; Albuquerque was too hot and dry; Napa was too close to the Bay Area congestion, and besides, it was a one-theme town.

Asheville in October looks like New England in the fall.  There was a bright crispness in the air; the leaves had been painted with broad strokes of color; the town glowed with a richness of artsy culture.  I fell in love.

 My friend drove me through neighborhoods of charming Arts and Crafts houses, past neighborhood art installations, and up and down the streets of downtown with their endless art galleries, their restored Art Deco grandeur, their walkable streets.  My fondness for the place kept growing.

One day we drove to Marshall, about 45 minutes northwest of town, where her friend Rob had a hilltop house and studio overlooking the French Broad River.  Rob had also purchased the abandoned high school in town and converted it into live/work studios.  My passion deepened.  

By the time I returned to Oakland, I had pretty much decided that I would move there.  But being the analytical type and not one to do things rashly, I decided to visit again in winter and summer since Asheville had four very distinct seasons while my favorite thing about Oakland was its year-round mild weather.

A visit to Asheville in winter would be next . . . .