A couple of weeks ago, my sister, Margaret, Hugh and I went onto the Blue Ridge Parkway in North Carolina to leaf peep. As I started to write this column, though, I got stumped. Did we peep at the turning leaves, or did we peek at them? I got out the trusty Webster's New World Dictionary.

“Peek” is defined as “to glance or look quickly and furtively, esp. through an opening or from behind something.” “Peep,” we're told in one definition, is “to peer slyly or secretly; take a hasty, furtive look.” Hmmm... Lots of “furtives” here. I looked the word up. “Furtive” means “sneaky!”

I guess I should re-title this column “Gawking at Foliage” or “Staring at Leaves” because we didn't glance at any of them quickly, furtively, slyly, secretly or hastily. We were up there in all that color for hours, stopping at overlooks and taking pictures. We weren't a bit sneaky and, as a matter of fact, we thoroughly enjoyed our visit.

Being our ages, we had the usual “uhs” and “ahs” and “oh my goshes” as we got out of the car and the expected gasps getting back into it, but we all decided the exercises were worth the views. The reds were fiery and plentiful. The yellows were as gold and rich as we've ever seen them. And there were such blends of purples and oranges that the scene was autumn-to-the-max in our opinions. Other autumns came to mind but slid from contention as we admired the color.

The first weekend in October, Hugh and I used to hike from Gatlinburg to Mt. LeConte Lodge to stay in a cabin without electricity or running water. The group we were with, a different bunch of folks, didn't mind the inconvenience. It was a night of sleeping uncomfortably, hearing noises you really wanted to forget and having to walk a very cold and considerable distance to get to the outhouse. We always thought those hikes gave us the perfect views of the fall season. We were at nearly 6,600 feet, high enough for early autumn leaves. And they were gorgeous! BUT!! Our recent venture along the Blue Ridge Parkway was above and beyond.

We stopped for lunch at Pisgah Inn and were told the wait was-get this-an hour and forty-five minutes! We fought through the crowd, armed with soft drinks and “tater” chips, and drove on.

But while there were lots of people on the road and at the overlooks, we rarely felt crowded. There was always a spot for us to park and never a bumper-to-bumper traffic jam. We were able to mosey along, stop often and say our prayers that we were sharing the gifts of nature's color and the creation of the Blue Ridge Parkway.

So! Peek? Peep? Furtive looks? Who cares?! This year we called it right and got to call autumn our own.

Emily Clements, of Little Mountain, is a columnist for The Newberry Observer. The Bits & Pieces column appears the second Wednesday of each month.