For several years, we drove two or three times a year from our home in the northern Virginia suburbs of Washington, D.C. to my grandparents' farm in the mountains of southwestern Virginia, near the Tennessee boarder. The trip took about eight hours. Thank heaven for 8-track tapes!
The Christmas trip I'm thinking of must have taken place in 1975, because my sister was a babe in arms. Don't remember anything about it except this one snapshot: Afternoon on an ascending mountain road bordered on both sides with tall, dense growths of evergreen, with no other traffic. It was either snowing lightly or the snow had recently stopped. Snow on the evergreens and a sense of peace, and quiet wonder as the car climbed through the simple yet somehow profound scene. And, this song playing on the car's stereo.
