After dinner last evening we took a
walk in the neighborhood. From the end of the Black Horse Run townhouses,
we crossed the road to a section of Biltmore Lake with more large homes.
These quiet streets meander up and downhill and end in cul-de-sacs every
which way. Through the trees and behind houses you catch glimpses of the
mountains in the distance. As we strolled along the sidewalk, we admired
people's gardens. Then I spotted a tall slim woman in a wide brimmed
straw purple hat wearing a black and white dress with a long straight skirt.
I thought it looked like a silk dress. Who waters their garden in a
silk dress with a purple sunhat hat at 8:30 at night?
We continued to the end of the
cul-de-sac commenting on a house we had seen before that was for sale. It
was very quiet on these back roads. As we turned around to go back the
way we had come, an older man in a beige straw hat and Bermuda shorts was also
out for a walk. As is the custom at Biltmore Lake, people say hello whether
they know you or not. The man stopped us and asked, "Are you the new
owners of this house?" Evidently the house for sale just sold and he
was curious as to the new neighbors. We told him we lived across Lake
Drive in the Black Horse Run townhouses. Instead of walking on, he introduced
himself as Arnold Brown. He motioned to the woman in the purple hat and walked
with us to the brown stucco house.
We were introduced to his wife
Marguerite, who by then no longer had on the purple hat. Exchanging greetings
I noticed Marguerite’s smile and her foreign accent. And her dress was silk. I wondered if she had been out to
dinner earlier or perhaps being foreign this was her daily gardening
attire. Suddenly I was self consciously aware of my old baggy shorts. I
had been comfortable in for my walk but they were not a flattering outfit for
someone my age.
We admired the garden so Marguerite
insisted on taking us for a tour. She is the gardener extraordinaire. We
headed straight downhill beside their very large home eyeing a gorgeous herb
garden and especially the spectacular lavender bushes.
Arnold and Marguerite did not seem to
want to let us go. Marguerite kept asking if we’d like a glass of wine on the
porch. We learned that Arnold is a retired doctor who was Chief of Staff
at the VA hospital in Asheville. But they raised their children in
Columbia, S.C. where he was also a doctor and she could have been a
"southern belle" presiding over the Garden Club.
Marguerite told us in her charming French accent that she is Swiss and travels
frequently to Switzerland to visit family. They have a son in Paris.
Dr. Brown said he grew up in Los Angeles. Perhaps that explained the
dapper straw hat he was still wearing - a touch of Hollywood?
After exchanging names several times
and spelling Kristina with a "K" and Aaronson with "double
a" they asked us to come back again. We finally said our good bye
marveling, as we often do, that you never know whom you might meet at Biltmore
Lake.
Just as I said that, we rounded the
corner and walked by a house we had admired before. A woman in a sundress (not
silk) was watering the grass. She smiled, said hello, and we stopped to tell
her how we had always noticed her unusual landscaping. She has no flowers
but many different types of evergreen plants creating an array of greens that
is truly eye catching. She told us that evergreens require little maintenance
and defy the bugs. Next thing we knew she was introducing herself with a
foreign accent as "Nadia".
We commiserated about the lack of rain and how our grass is turning
brown and I finally had to ask where she was from. "Russia!", she
replied. Here we go again, I thought.
We listened to Nadia tell of how she
and her husband had come to the US from Moscow fifteen years ago because they
had a handicapped daughter who is now 18. They have lived in Biltmore
Lake for 3 years and built a very large home. Nadia has her own interior
decorating business. We could have lingered awhile longer to get more but
it was almost dark.
It is continually intriguing to discover
neighbors from everywhere in the world all with a life story, and wanting to
know ours. I look forward to our
next after-dinner walk to see whom we might meet next at Biltmore Lake.
