Change of Scenery
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Sometimes, you just need a change of scenery, the simplest of explanations why we are leaving Maggie Valley and moving to Murrells Inlet.
Some of you, I suspect, perceive that as a drastic change.
After all, our home in Maggie Valley is nestled on the top of a mountain at one of the highest elevations (4772’) on the east coast. And our new home in Murrells Inlet is barely above sea level on the edge of a salt marsh within line of sight of the Atlantic Ocean.
Sure, I could point to the similarities. We can walk from our house in Maggie to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park in minutes, but we can walk from the Murrells Inlet house to Huntington Beach State Park in even less time. And one location is whipped by the unpredictable weather of the Appalachian Mountains while the other deals with the ever-changing ocean climate.
But the reality is that I see much more in common between the two locations than those surface issues. And to see things from my perspective you need to first understand a more basic question—where am I from?
For many people, the answer to that question is simple. Some still live in their hometowns. Others have moved from their childhood home but have strong memories of their roots.
In my case, the answer is more complicated. I consider a region as my home, not so much a single town. And the reason for that is my connection to so many towns.
Isn’t the place of my birth my hometown? Technically, maybe, but I only lived in Knoxville, Tennessee, for the first two weeks of my life. Long enough to sing Rocky Top and shout “Go Vols,” but not long enough to build a strong connection.
Or, let’s be honest, to build memories.
The first five years of my life were similar. We moved up and down the I-85 corridor from as far south as Greenville, South Carolina, up to Burlington, North Carolina, before settling into Gastonia, North Carolina, halfway through my kindergarten year.
A slight pause here to drag up a childhood scar. My first kindergarten visited the fire department two weeks after we moved. My second kindergarten toured the fire department before I arrived. In my mind, every other five-year-old on the face of the planet got to turn on the lights and sirens, blow the air horn, and slide down the pole, depriving me and only me of the experience. Things like this stay with you for the rest of your life and are great fodder for an imaginative mind.
We lived in Gastonia until I graduated high school—long enough for me to call it “Gastony” like everyone else—so it is probably as much a hometown as any. But the town today, essentially a suburb of Charlotte, is quite different.
Back then, Gastonia was a bustling textile town with factories scattered everywhere with only the slightest whiff of the demise of manufacturing to come. And across the river, Charlotte was a smallish city planting the seeds of its eventual boom times. So Charlotte exploded in growth while Gastonia and all the southern towns like it saw their manufacturing economy slip overseas.
To further complicate my roots, throughout those years growing up in the “Gas Town,” I spent my summers at my grandfather’s house in Nashville, Tennessee. Today it might seem laughable that living near the intersection of Hillsboro Pike and Old Hickory Boulevard was the country, but we spent our summer days playing in a burbling creek, hanging out in horse barns, and eating fresh vegetables straight out of his garden.
So, did I grow up in Gastonia or Nashville?
And how about the college years? My summers were spent working in Rutherford County, North Carolina—outdoors around the clock as a camp counselor while the school year was in Hickory, North Carolina (a furniture town watching its manufacturing leave just like textiles left Gastonia).
My adult life was no less confusing. Though based in Charlotte most of those years, my work career took me far around the globe. Because of the project nature of work, I have been blessed to work for extended periods of time in great international cities like Hong Kong and Rotterdam, smaller towns like Mayaguez, Puerto Rico, Germersheim, Germany, and Adelaide, Australia, and U.S. cities such as New York, Chicago, Atlanta, and Philadelphia.
Maggie Valley came into the picture nearly 20 years ago when we bought a small weekend home and quickly fell into a pattern of spending every weekend in the mountains. Since I spent my weekdays in airplanes and hotels, it didn’t take long for Maggie to become our only home.
About six years ago, I walked out of an airport for the final time and away from a finance career. Instead of the jetsetting life, which is nowhere near as glamorous as it sounds, I settled into my study in Maggie and produced my first novel, The Lottery.
Of all of the towns I have spent days in, the question remains—where am I from?
All those places influenced who I am, but the places where I have lived share a commonality—they are a part of the Southern U.S.
And my years of travels and the project assignments in towns around the world taught me that people, no matter where they are from, have similar interests and desires. Each have differences to celebrate and we Southerners have our own unique ways of embracing our world.
So, if you ask me where I am from, my answer is that I am from the South. And, specifically, from the Carolinas (and Tennessee), the region where I spent my formative years. The mountains. The piedmont. And the coast.
Growing up in the Carolinas, “the beach” meant one place—Myrtle Beach. Sandy beaches. Gentle surf. Ocean breezes. Endless hotels. The Pavilion with its bumper cars, roller coasters, and carousel. Crowded sidewalks along Ocean Boulevard.
As I grew older and less interested in the mobs, my stays moved to the southern part of the Grand Strand. For the last several years, those vacations have been by RV in Huntington Beach State Park, a pristine natural area with an array of wildlife.
While visiting Huntington Beach this past spring, we discovered a nearby house sitting on the edge of the salt marsh, its deck facing the park we love. A short walk / bike ride down the greenway leads into the park. The trail is flat, something my older knees appreciate after years of scrambling over rocks in the mountains.
The picture that accompanies this post is the view of the sunrise this past Sunday morning from the back deck of the house. That view was the final selling point for us.
And so we bought the house.
This summer, we have bounced between mountains and coast, planning renovations on the new house (which needed a good bit of tender loving care as parts of it were in disrepair), watching contractors swarm the project, and preparing the old house for sale. We have made tons of progress, even to the point that this essay itself was written in my new office overlooking the marsh. A heron is perched on a tree branch, eyeing me as I type.
With my focus on the move, I am behind schedule on everything else. Lost and Found will get published, but it has gathered some dust in the last weeks. And, of course, I am not close to reading the number of books I normally accomplish.
Despite the disruptions, we are excited about the change and are getting acclimated. The dogs are enjoying their frequent walks (as are we). I will get back to a full-time writing schedule over the next few weeks.
The remaining obvious question—will future books continue to be set in the mountains? Hopefully, my answer to where am I from can help paint that picture. Lost and Found is set in the heart of the mountains, starting with a snowy scene in the infamous Pigeon River Gorge and along Interstate 40 at the Tennessee / North Carolina state line.
I want to revisit the serial novel Pestilence, posted online some time ago. As those few faithful who were reading my work back then will remember, the story is set in the heart of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.
Other stories venture out of the mountains, but never far. One such tale involves a journey from the mountains to the coast, a story I can flush out even more now with my own travel.
My earliest non-published novel written over three decades ago, not counting the horrible ones that will never see the light of day, focuses on a boy who can just see the gleaming skyscrapers of Charlotte from his small industrial town. That setting might sound familiar to anyone who grew up in the mill towns surrounding the banking center.
Regardless of the exact setting, they all have something in common. They are about the people from the towns and city where I am from. The places I know.
I hope you will visit those places with me.
Happy Reading from Murrells Inlet, South Carolina.
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Wow. My very best wishes on your move. I remember MB from my own childhood, hours spent driving from our home in Maryland to arrive at ‘the Shamrock’, a grouping of cabins owned by two older women. For the life of me, I can’t remember the name of the one, but ‘Burt’ stands out in my mind. She would take us fishing in the evening, we’d go across Ocean Blvd, catch whatever we could. Their cats were SPOILED rotten – fresh seafood. The must do shopping at the Gay Dolphin, nights walking up Ocean to the shops and Pavillion. Always the second week in August. We were there when Elvis died. Thanks for the memories!
Hello Kirk! Sounds like an awesome place. I, too, am from “The South”, and looked up to you (literally and physically) when working Summers in Rutherfordton. My family and I reside in Connellys Springs, but we love the mountains, the coast, and everything in between. Wishing you well on the move. I enjoy reading your posts.
As I read this I am struck by how much alike we really are. YIKES! How often we’ve said and been told how different we are from one another, yet our deep connection to the South, our years of travel/work abroad, love of reading, ability to make each other laugh at the craziest things and now this move to the coast. You beat me there!! No Fair!! I’m telling mom!! Oh… wait…
Love you guys and cheers to the next chapter!
T
Wow. A move was not anywhere on my radar concerning the exciting secret that Frankie told Landon.
Your mountain home is beautiful & amazing. Looking forward to glimpses of your new beach home.
On a side note, we moved during my 6th grade school year and I missed out on 6th Grade Camp in the nearby mountains so I completely understand how you felt being deprived of the experience of the fire department. I still feel deprived from missing out on my 6th grade camp experience.
Anyhoo, congratulations & good luck on your move and settling into your new normal.
Hopefully The Thundering heard doesn’t complain about the lack of snow. Ha.
Congratulations on your move. How exciting! Will the herd get any snow? (I’m a California girl) Hubby and myself have been tossing around moving out of California lately…
Congratulations on your move. How exciting! Will the herd get any snow? (I’m a California girl) Hubby and myself have been tossing around moving out of California lately…
A change in scenery does a body good! The home in Maggie Valley was gorgeous and I am sure your new home will be the same. I am sure you know plenty of folks to assist with the sale of the home in Maggie Valley. If not I am a realtor and have great connections !! I am sure the Herd has already found favorable sleep spots. Best wishes ! Enjoy the beach!
Wow! I never expected this as the big announcement but I’m very excited for all of you! I just hate to see you leave that big gorgeous house in the mountains behind. I’ve been so jealous of that place. It really is a work of art. But we have to listen to our hearts and do what will make us happy. I hope the dogs won’t miss the mountains, but knowing that dogs live in the moment, anywhere you are they will be happy. And I’m sure there will be trips to the mountains in your future. Let’s just hope the hurricanes stay away. Congratulations and all the best in your new home!
I cannot wait to see what y’all make of the new place at Murrells Inlet, since y’all did so much with the house and grounds at Maggie Valley. I guess now your trips will be to the mountains to see and play in the snow. Looking forward to seeing how the pups like the change of place, atmosphere, sea level, and accompanying distractions!
Congratulations on your new home!! Sometimes you just need a change!! Hope the puppies and humans find this a beautiful & relaxing area.
So happy for your news! Like all children, if the parents are adjusted to the move , so go the kids. I lived in Biloxi and Ft. Walton Beach as a child. My parents moved all of us to Michigan when I was in elementary school. I still miss the sound of the ocean and the smell of the sea. Maybe someday I can return. Best wishes and thank you for the free book offer!
The Herd now has sand between their paws. Best of luck on the new location. Love the view and “The Lottery” also. Enjoy.
WOW! not what I would have guessed. Congratulations sounds like a dream location. My first thought, will Miss Cheoah adjust to leaving the sofa & fireplace behind. Best of luck and no matter the location I so look forward to the Herd’s adventure of the day. I enjoy starting the day with a extra smile, chuckle, belly laugh and a fellowship(as mom to Czar & Sasha) and & thank you for that.
All my life I have had changes in scenery. Born in Connecticut, moving to Alaska interior at five, back to New England, up to Washington state, down to Arkansas, and then the Navy. Now after 39 years in coastal Virginia I’m ready for the mountains again.
I hope your move brings you everything you hoped for and your pack enjoys the new location.
I’ll be looking at your old place when it hits the market. Looks like the perfect location for me and my pack.
I had a nomadic childhood. by 12th grade I had been gone to 10 different schools in many cities. a government job by my dad back in the days when there were no apt complexes! housing was always somewhat of an adventure in itself!
the pictures you’ve shared of Murrells Inlet are beautiful!
we’re locked under a heat dome here in the SW. temps in the 100’s (not even counting the heat index!) and no ocean in sight! SIGH.
hope Frankie and the boys and their sister do well!
the fact that you could post anything with all that going on is amazing to me! and appreciated! XO
“been gone???” LOL! whatever.
how about done been gone. LOL.
Now you can list your old house as “owned by the famous author DK Wall and the Thundering Herd”. Own a house that they lived in and made their home for 20 years. If you did not get so much rain up there at that house, we would buy it in a second with the privacy you have up there and the cooler temps. I could add more German Shepherds to our pack.
Fantastic, exciting times for you all. Wishing you all the best with your move and hoping the herd adjust well and continue with their mischievous ways, as only huskies can. Look forward to following your new adventures and writing.
Looks like there will be plenty of photographic moments from the deck. Beautiful view. Enjoy your change.
Mom sez: WoW, this all came as a surprise to me, but in a way, not a surprise either, as I’ve followed your Myrtle Beach adventures with the Herd over the past few years. Wondering how the Herd will take the move from “snow” to “sand”. IS there a “winter” at Myrtle Beach? Good luck with your move, and the “new adventures” I’m sure will follow.
——— Mom & Ebby
Congratulations on the move (although most of the people I know who have lived in the Carolinas are looking to move TO the mountains, not away – but then, they are in the central part of NC, so that does make a difference…)! People always ask me where I’m from, and the answer is almost always, “It’s complicated”. I was born in Maryland but only lived there for 6 weeks, so no memory of the place. My parents moved the Kansas City, MO, but when I was 4 we moved to Saudi Arabia, where I spent most of 10 years (coming back to Montreal and then to Morehead City in the summers), and then went to a boarding school in PA because my parents were still overseas. Then I moved to Utah and have lived here for 30 years. But I’m not from Utah, or Chapel Hill, or Saudi Arabia…. I prefer to tell people to take their pick as to where I’m from, but after all my travels, I love Utah more than any place else (and yet there’s still a stigma attached to “being from Utah” – and I’m a long-time transplant….). Happy moving!
Well, bummer! I just got myself moved TO the Southeast (one hour from Asheville) and figured I’d be able to meet your current crop of dogs someday soon! Ah well…
BTW my ‘hometown’ is the one I lived in from age 3 to age … it’s complicated 🙂 but let’s say age 22 minus school years away at college. Hope you enjoy the coast!
Good for you and your crew moving to Murrells Inlet! Wanted to move there for a while but… I have just about stayed in one place for 73 years. So happy to see the dogs more often when we are in Huntington Beach. Best of luck in the Low Country.
First thank you for adopting from us. SHA Bristol. We’ve since closed. Love seeing the puppies being lovingly cared for. I had 8 personal Sibe’s when we first met; down to one of the original team. The Herd is fine as long as they are with their pack leader; they wuv woo. Be waiting to see seaside pix.
I remember well. Frankie and Typhoon both continue to do well.
Hope this finds you both well, and all of the pups too, just saw the pics of the Red Flash, so very funny!. Being a Gypsy myself, I understand your move. I am in West Virginia now, on (very) old family land. Six generations, maybe seven, I loose count? The house and the Marsh are amazing, the seasons there will astound you. Looking forward to writings and photos, lots of each.
Blessings.
Donna Wolfe