In the middle of nowhere, hill after hill, on some windy back road, unmarked by yellow lines, as close to the Little River as possible, was a narrow, one lane bridge that went clickety-clack as the tires rolled over each plank of wood, where the elusive gray fox crossed the road in front of us. Why could it not be a black bear? I thought to myself. But I was satisfied with the gray fox. What contractor ever dreamed of putting a road out here anyway? And then, the following morning, I saw the most elusive of all wild animals — the Black Bear. It was 11am and I saw three black bears headed up the historic nature trail. I feel like a National Geographic photographer.
§tacy §weeney
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/U.S._Route_441_in_Tennessee
https://www.glenstonelodge.com/?utm_medium=organic&utm_source=google&utm_campaign=business-listing
§tacyReneè§weeney 