As I sit here writing this, the sun has started sinking below the hill behind me. It almost looks like it is peeking out from behind the trees with its one monstrous eye.

The warmth of it is fading quickly on my back as I write and contemplate, something I usually don't do in this setting.

I decided I would do this today because I really won't have time when I go back to work. I finally finished mowing my grass yesterday after coming back from vacation. The grass waited on me until I returned, somewhat unkempt but yet not so bad as I might have thought.

The hard part was running the string trimmer for about three hours trying to trim out the edges of my property. I have several areas that I only cut a few times a year. So far, I have trimmed some of the areas as many as three times, but most only one or two. The briars, goldenrod and Virginia creeper (also called woodbine) climb all over each other into a tangled mess that only a rabbit could love. In addition, I have a few native crab apples that I am nurturing and they would get covered up with undergrowth if I didn't cut things back once in a while. I don't really want everything to be tame like a front yard, mind you. The brushy areas provide important habitat for many small creatures, including quail.

However, I like to keep at least a portion of the sides of the openings clear so I can walk through the edge of the clearing and straight into the forest beyond. Sometimes I like to take a break when I am mowing and step across that unseen threshold of shadows into the cool and somewhat hidden world of forest beyond.

The temperature is always at least 10 degrees cooler and the air has a moist smell that only forests can have.

There are a few dead trees lying here and there and I have one particular place where I like to sit down and look out over the hill towards a frequently-used deer trail.

Sometimes I can spot a nervous white tail, either on its way to eat in a big hayfield over the hill or on its way back from having a drink at the river.

The deer trail runs straight over the mountain side to the river in the valley below, about 1,000 yards or so. I never hunt this area because of its proximity to homes, but I do like to sit here in the early fall. Come late fall, I wouldn't be out here for any reason, even with a blaze orange hat and a white flag.

As I sit down here to write my column, my arms and legs are covered with grass. That's one of the things I hate about weed whackers. The other thing I hate is that I currently have no feeling in my hands, especially my left hand. They are tingling like they've fallen asleep. That makes my writing look less than legible. I can only hope that I can re-type this into something usable when I get back into the house later on.

Right now, I am content to be where I am. If I go in the house, I will be obliged to take off these clothes and my socks and shoes and head straight for the shower. I am better off taking a break where I am, out here in the peace and quiet.

The trip to the beach proved to be a nice time with the family, complete with time on the beach and visits to area attractions. The weather wasn't completely friendly, but we had a few days of nice weather to go with the rain. The high surf was also a problem, but I went swimming in the ocean anyway. Opportunities like that don't come about every day for mountain folk.

While at the coast, I toured the Battleship North Carolina, which is still nearly complete with period displays — like green and red packs of Lucky Strike cigarettes in the ship's store. The tour is self-guided and I would definitely suggest taking it if you are a history buff. Some of the manual controls on the guns still work and you can believe that I took care of those.

The other end of the spectrum was a horse and carriage tour of historic Wilmington and a ride on one of the state's many ferries that crisscross the inner coastal waterways between the islands and the mainland.

I can say that downtown Wilmington was a real treasure, one of the few sea ports that was open to the Confederacy during what I like to call, in my grandmother's terms, 'the war of northern aggression.' It still has the same brick streets in many areas and older warehouse district buildings are being renovated and turned into shops and restaurants. You can almost imagine the belles on the verandas.

The downtown is quite easy to navigate, since it is laid out in squares with streets numbered in succession. Even with my limited abilities at driving in city settings, I had no trouble navigating the area.

I also got to see the Fort Fisher Aquarium and portions of the earthen fort that helped hold northern ships off the shore for several years. However, one of my favorite parts was the recreation area at Fort Fisher, which consists of undeveloped oceanfront stretching out into the sea. While I was there, I was the only person on the beach as far as I could see in either direction. Of course, I feel sure that it isn't that way all of the time, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.

It helped me to understand what things must have looked like years ago when people first started to settle on the coast of this state. Another memorable experience was going to a restaurant in Southport and eating seafood, only to come out and learn that the tide had come in and covered the roadway. The restaurant was attached to a pier and boats were anchored just behind it. We ate out on the dock itself, enjoying the late afternoon sunshine, much as I am enjoying it now. I finally got to go fishing the day before I returned and I caught a small shark, just under two feet long, and a sea trout. I kept the trout.

It's getting too dark to see the paper now. Funny how soon the evenings are gone these days. I always lament the loss of the sunlit evenings as fall approaches, but I always appreciate the cool temperatures. With the sun setting earlier each day, there's never enough time to be outside.

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