The wildlife here ranges from sketchy looking squirrels to bears and deer that are almost as domesticated as dogs.
There’s even been a few mountains lions, and if you believe the hunting cam video that was on Facebook a while back, there’s even a black panther on the loose.
I’ve had run ins with just about all of them in some way or another — thankfully I only hear the mountain lions from my porch in the early morning hours — but none took me by surprise more than a recent encounter with the hipster-sapien. Also known as the hipster.
And when found within a 50-mile radius of the Appalachian Mountains, it is known as a Hillbilly Hipster.
There I was, minding my own business, trying to do some work on my laptop at a coffee shop while my husband and child ran a few errands.
All I wanted was to do my work and have an extra-large coffee in peace.
But I could not.
Sitting at a small bistro table beside me were two men pontificating about everything under the sun.
First up, was the election.
The things I heard in that 15 minutes made my head hurt.
It was obvious they were college students with their ID’s hanging off their messenger bags.
I shot them a glance over my glasses that I hoped would make them think I was a disapproving professor they hadn’t met yet.
But they were up to their eyeballs in their frothy coffees and opinions.
I tried to shut them out, and made a mental reminder to not take my laptop anywhere without my ear buds again.
The conversation continued through even more topics, moving from religion to the gentrification of Atlanta.
The more they talked, the louder they got.
And then, they crossed the line: The one with the beard and the beanie made a proclamation that almost made me leave my table in a fit of fury.
“Now, I know some people may think Lucas was a genius — and in some regards, he was — but I really think Abrams’ take is fresh and relevant. I think this is the game changer that will make everyone and I mean everyone forget about the first trilogy.”
It took all my Jedi control not to do the Darth Vader throat squeeze on beanie hat.
Gravity took over from there, with them bouncing back and forth about how now, this was opening new cinematic doors for the franchise.
I was waiting at the curb when Lamar finally arrived. I told him I had not been able to get anything done and gave him an explanation as to why.
“Hipster,” Cole explained.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“I don’t know how to explain it,” he said. “I know they like to wear those tight skinny jeans and beanies.”
“Are they all that annoying?” I asked.
“Mama, I’m homeschooled, how I am supposed to know that? If they are annoying it’s probably because their pants are too tight.”
I couldn’t argue there. Their jeans did look like they may be cutting the circulation off.
“But, normally, they like the old-school stuff, so maybe they aren’t true hipsters,” Cole stated.
How we had hipsters here was a mystery to me. Maybe they had migrated south for the summer from somewhere?
Then just weeks later, we were in the grocery store.
“Oh, wow … is this like a totally vintage, retro thing?” the cashier asked as she rang up my Jiffy Pop. I told her no. “So, like this really works?”
No, I just like to buy little aluminum pans filled with popcorn to throw away once I get home.
“Yes, it does.”
“How does it work?”
I explained the scientific method of popping Jiffy Pop. “I didn’t know you could make popcorn outside of the microwave,” she said in awe.
“Really? So you’ve never had popcorn cooked on top of the stove?”
“You can do that?”
I told her you could.
“Wow, you’re so full of knowledge,” she said. And, I think she was actually being sincere in that.
“How do you get the butter flavor if you don’t have it on the kernels?” she wanted to know.
“With … butter …” I explained.
“But doesn’t that make the popcorn shrink up? I tried that on my microwave popcorn once and it made them all shrink up and gross.”
“Well, if you use margarine, it will. But butter won’t.”
She was still fascinated about the expanded possibilities of popcorn beyond the microwave when the bagger commented,
“Yeah, right. There’s no such thing as real butter anymore.”
I noticed his skinny jeans; he probably had a beanie in his locker somewhere.
“There’s still real butter,” I said.
He snorted. “Right. And where would you find it?”
I turned to point towards the dairy section. “There’s a whole section over there, with the word ‘butter’ in 10-feet letters.”
“But, that’s not real butter. It’s butter like substances.”
Was he going to really argue with me about butter?
“It’s butter. They have real butter over there, not margarine. Not butter like substances — butter.”
He laughed as he handed me my bag. “Think that if you like, but that’s fake real butter. The truth is out there but no one wants to believe it.”
I wanted to tell Mulder those skinny jeans had impaired his common sense but Cole pulled me out before I could.
“Mom, don’t,” he said, leading me out the door. “It’s not worth it. Don’t get in an argument with a hipster. They think they know everything and don’t want to listen, just let it go.”
Maybe he was right.
I’m still not sure what a hipster is exactly, but I hope I don’t run into another one anytime soon.
Sudie Crouch is an award winning humor columnist and author of the novel, “The Dahlman Files: A Tony Dahlman Paranormal Mystery.”