Our days with daughter Lise have been full. We’ve done a year’s worth of shopping for things she can’t get in Denmark. Constant talking filled the gaps.

We were in Cherokee long enough to get a picture of one of the street signs. The name is written in English and in Cherokee. For those who don’t know, the Eastern Band of Cherokees have a reservation here. You first notice the enormous gambling casino and touristy shops selling trinkets. Search further, and you will find a museum and an outdoor presentation of Indian culture and crafts. We haven’t seen it in years, but the drama Unto These Hills still plays to crowds in the summer.

On the way home, we detoured onto the Blue Ridge Parkway and enjoyed a sunset as we drove.

The light gradually faded, leaving bands of pink and blue on the horizon.

We enjoyed the lavish Christmas decorations at the Biltmore Estate. To the right of the front door was the glass-roofed winter garden, filled with plants and flowers. The main Christmas tree was in its usual place in the dining hall. Every year they have that tree decorated before Thanksgiving and replace it halfway through the season with another one, erected and decorated in one night. According to a guide, there were 53 Christmas trees in the house this year. Reason tells me the Vanderbilts did not have that many trees in the house when they lived there.

We ate lunch at the Moose Cafe and walked through half the farmers’ market where we were tempted by the photo station.