Wayfarer Update – Late May Reflections

The mountains are wearin’ their summer greens now, all lush and soft like velvet stitched by heaven’s hand. The Clinch River’s been runnin’ high—like it’s got a story to tell and can’t hold it in no longer. It’s the kind of season where everything feels alive and whisperin’ if you slow down enough to listen.

We’ve had some extra hands on deck lately, which has made a difference. There’s a rhythm to the work when it’s shared—like an old bluegrass tune played just right. One of those hands belongs to the one and only Billy Droze, and if that name rings familiar, it ought to. He’s been pourin’ sweat and soul into the stage and bar, and he added a touch of magic to our Tazewell County Bounty Store that only he could. You can feel his spirit in the woodgrain and corners, tucked in like a song lyric that stays with you.

The front of house ceiling is finished now—and it’s not just a ceiling, it’s a canopy for stories yet to be sung. Light spills across it which has ended up with a vibe all it’s own.

We’ve also welcomed a new soul to the Wayfarer team, and it didn’t take long to know he was meant to be part of this journey. He’s been a blessing in boots—steady, kind, and always ready to pitch in.

Out back, the window we call “living art” is framed now. It looks out over the land like a painting that changes by the hour—morning mist, noonday shimmer, and evening gold. It’s a quiet centerpiece, and I often find myself paused in front of it, just watchin’ the world unfold. The buttercups are still there and I love it when the deer and the cowes share the same space.

Chris and I are headin’ into our test kitchen June 2nd, and we’re excited to see how all those dreams on paper taste in real life. That same week, we’ll be recording with a new artist, and I’m sure it will be the kind of week where the creative fires burn bright.

We’ve been interviewing folks, listenin’ not just for resumes, but for heartbeats. We’re gatherin’ people who understand that what we’re building isn’t just a venue—it’s a living, breathing thing.

And just the other day, I was caught tiptoeing through my neighbor’s flower garden, phone in hand, tryin’ to bottle up a little of that beauty. Instead of fussin’ at me, she gave me a full garden tour. That’s the kind of place we’re blessed to live in—where creativity spills over fences and generosity grows right alongside the red Poppies.

So here we are, somewhere between vision and reality, led by gut, grace, and a little Appalachian grit. Wayfarer is comin’ to life, y’all—and I’m just so glad you’re part of it.

With dusty boots and a grateful heart,

Mystic Mountain Mama