The name comes from the mist, not from fire.
In the early morning, a blue-grey haze rises from the forests below the ridgelines. It moves through the trees without disturbing them. The firs absorb the light and give back a green so deep it reads as almost black in the shadows between the stands.
The air in these mountains smells alive. Resinous and clean in a way that nothing manufactured has ever quite captured. The cold does not bite here so much as settle. It carries the smell of the trees with it. Fir and deep green and something sharp and clarifying that opens everything up.
Smoky Mountain Fir was made from that morning air. From the particular coolness that lives in the forested ridges at dawn, when the mist has not yet lifted and the trees are still the darkest thing in the landscape.
We wrote more about this place in the Journal, if you want to spend a little more time there.
Explore the Smoky Mountain Fir scent.
