Buttercups and baby calves have aged into golden ember leaves. The brisk evening air drifts in, and the grass begins to lose its brilliance — and that’s alright. Appalachia knows that shedding is part of becoming, that endings are nothing more than new beginnings whispered in the wind.

Last weekend, we swung open our doors for the Grand Opening. Flowers rested on the tables, a humble nod to beauty, even though — in true Murphy’s Law fashion — our Nashville artist’s vehicle broke down, and the show had to be canceled. Still, the room filled with warmth, laughter, and good company. It was less about the stage and more about the spirit, and that’s worth remebering.

Starting a restaurant is no small mountain to climb. It’s a road of grit and grace, where every stone in the path tests whether your vision has roots deep enough to hold. Finding the right hands and hearts to walk alongside you—to execute the dream just as you see it—is one of the hardest parts. But it’s also the most rewarding.

It’s a strange thing—coming back home after being out in the world. The roads are the same, but I swear some of the turns feel different. I’ve been walking the familiar hills of my hometown with city dust still on my boots, trying to find my footing. There’s comfort in the air here, sure, but there’s also a quiet shift… like the mountains are watching to see who I’ve become.

Joining the Back of the Dragon OTR Annual Event felt like being swept into the heartbeat of something bigger than ourselves. The roar of engines, the smell of leather and open road, and the kind of camaraderie you don’t find in just any town — it was a soul-filling experience. We met folks who feel like family now, shook hands with visionaries, storytellers, and road warriors who made us proud to be rooted here. Thank you to every person who stopped to talk, share, or simply smile. Y’all reminded us why we do what we do.

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.

Well, it’s been one of those weeks where the roads twist and turn but somehow carry you right where you’re meant to be.

We started out in Nashville, where the lights never sleep and the music’s always waiting to be born. Chris had an artist cut a few songs for RBR Entertainment—that session was like lightning in a bottle. There’s magic coming from that label, I can feel it deep in my bones.

We took the sign down.

Not just any sign, but the one that read Painted Peak, a name with its own stories, its own ghosts, its own time. We pulled it down with reverence, like folding away the last quilt of an old season. In its place, we raised something new — a simple promise written in bold letters: Wayfarer. Coming Soon. Just those words. No noise. Just hope.

Inside, sawdust curls like cinnamon on the air. The bar’s being created from wood that feels like it has stories of its own — thick, weathered, warm-toned planks that came home with us last night like strays we couldn’t leave behind. Rob and Geroge are working through the third draft of the menu, and let me just say, it’s shaping up to be as Appalachian as it is elevated.

Well, I did it. On April 11th, I hung up my badge and walked away from the world of cubicles, conference calls, and concrete. Silver Spring is in the rearview now, and Tazewell—my forever mountain home—is calling the shots.

Life has taken a turn in the most surreal way. One minute I was staring at a computer screen under fluorescent lights, and now, I’m sipping coffee while watching the morning mist rise over a hillside dotted with the most enormous black and white cows you’ve ever seen. It feels like I woke up in someone else’s dream, but I know it’s mine—I’ve just finally come home.

We packed up and headed south, chasing down that wild glimmer of a vision that’s been tugging at our sleeves for months now—a music venue wrapped in food and stories. Atlanta was our map dot this time, and Lord, did it deliver.

A new chapter is unfolding in Tazewell, Virginia, with the arrival of Wayfarer, a vibrant hub where community, music, and locally sourced cuisine come together. As Wayfarer takes root in the historic space previously home to Painted Peak Brewing Company, a fresh vision is emerging—one that blends some farm-to-table dining, a co-op and Mercantile, and a Music Venue set to bring both local and Nashville-based talent to the stage.