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Moving On
Today is a cold fall day -- winter like temperature. The sky is overcast
with clouds racing past. Her color and textures change by the second. Gray
background with large whitish gray clouds overlaid. Next the air will darken
and the sky will be a deep solid black. Then streaky white wisps will race
across the black diluting it to a softer gray.
The sky matches my own spirit. I wrestle with questions and losses. I
travel away from home into the forest to forget. Here I hope my heart will
smile again. I travel an old road bordering an old friend. My friend is Bear
Creek. The road and the creek twist and move together. The thin ribbon of
black and brown silhouettes the clear water and steep banks of the creek. The
two are as one.
My heart is happy to return one more time to this place of peace and
beauty. Old stands of fir with dark trunks shade the sparkling waters. The
tall ones crowd up to the very edge of her banks. Here the air is sweet and
rich with the smell of fresh pine. A stiff wind makes a soft swish through
the tops of these gentle giants.
Along the banks where daylight makes its way to the ground, the earth is
carpeted by sumac -- low as shrubs. They have all peaked at once here. The
carpet is a brilliant red under a deep green overhang of pine boughs. I am
stopped by the beauty here. Music fills the air composed of the gentle pine
voices singing in the wind and the soft gurgles of the stream racing over a
rough rocky bottom.
On the opposite side of the road is a steep cliff of deep red shale. The
color is a rich dark red almost as deep as venous blood. I have always felt
drawn to this rock. It is my ancestors and the mountain as one. I gently
touch it -- for a moment we are one. There is a deep feeling of belonging --
yet an air of sadness.
I move farther along the creek. The pine forest gives way to a mix of fir
and hardwoods. Here vibrant reds of the maples dash the soft green profile of
the pine forest. The reds are surrounded by a mix of golds and rich browns of
the oaks and walnuts. A soft pink highlights the scene -- the leaves are of a
tree I am not sure.
More light penetrates this woodland. The ground is covered in withering
deer ferns flowing with the wind. Wild azalea and buck laurel hold on to
their deep green leaves. The tall green grasses of summer now are a stand of
thin brown tassels bowing to the cold winds of approaching winter. The
striped leaves of teaberry and the soft edges of ground pines can be seen
hugging Mother. Already a fresh carpet of brown crunchy leaves begins to
build winter protection from the harsh temperatures to come for the forest
roots.
The pungent odors of damp and rotting leaves fills the air here. A smell
that always brings a smile to my face. Another season -- another part of the
circle. The forest drops back into a clearing. Here among the broad leaves of
browning plants and tall grasses, a small patch of orange peeks out. As I
look closer, more and more specks of orange dot the field. They are pumpkins.
Here fall is not complete without pumpkin for pies, cakes, and bread. In my
head the sweet smells of the treats swirl and I remember the love in the
kitchen when family gathered to make these delights.
The forest again hugs the road. Here the creek is lined by rough barked
trees with very few brown leaves remaining from the summer of green. These
are the shag bark trees. Trees that I have visited with my family for as long
as I have lived. Every year at this time we journeyed here to pick hickory
and black walnuts. In my youth I did not realize the true blessings of these
trips. Then, I was happy to just gather the nuts. On my mind was the fun of
cracking and shelling them - of course sneaking a few right away :). Already
tasting in my mind the pumpkin bread, cookies, and cakes that would be
flavored by these little treats.
My wife will keep this tradition alive one more time. This coming weekend
she will again be baking these treats with my sister. Again family will be
joined together to enjoy a bountiful harvest from Creator. Yet now in the
autumn of my own life I understand the true gifts of these journeys. It was
not the nuts and the cakes. It was being out in Creator's land with those who
loved me. It is memories that last forever and keep those who have crossed
over ever dear in my heart.
As time advances those who journey with me have changed. At first my
parents and grandparents, later my aunts and uncles, then my son and wife,
and now my wife and myself. Except for my son, wife, and mother -- death has
removed from me all those who journeyed there with me for fifty years. Now,
to come to this place is a homecoming. The trees and the creek are like going
back in time to a family lost.
The trees still stand strong. The rough dark bark is the softest of views
to my aching heart now. Around them the laughter of my family again flows on
the wind. I see all their faces and feel the love they shared with me. Here
in a time when so many are called home to the other side - I am again
surrounded by family and friends.
Each bend in the creek, each familiar tree, each nut I pick is a priceless
gift. They are a connection to my family and who I am. Oh what greater place
then this can I be -- surrounded by my onelegged brothers, winged relations,
and fourlegged friends.
As I am surrounded by this beauty I am reminded of my own life. Lessons
have been learned and still are. My face ages with the trials and I wear the
wrinkles with pride. My hands are sore with age and hard work. Yet I have
always maintained my name. The one gift that will outlast me -- the one thing
of importance to me. I am my name -- without it I am nothing. My father also
lived a hard life unwilling to compromise the things he believed in. He has
taught me well the lessons of respect and honor.
As the trees are stressed now with shortening days and dwindling light.
The true colors are released from hiding by the fading green of the
chlorophyl. I too am released from the shadows of my ancestors who have
crossed over. Slowly I realize I am standing alone here at the head of my
family. It is time the lessons I learned are passed on and I walk the walk.
The young ones of my family look to me to lead now.
Once again I am brought to mirror lake to see who I am. With sadness over
recent losses of friends and family I have wrestled with my path -- frozen
before the mirror unable to move. Now this visit back to the old shag bark
trees has again brought sight to my heart. It is time for me to show my true
colors as my father has shown to me. I must stand true to my beliefs. The
walk is hard and lonely now.
As the maple leaf is green with youth so was my spirit. Now in the autumn
the maple shows a brilliant deep red. Its greatest beauty shows in its time
of greatest stress. This is the lesson the wind carries to my heart today. I
have passed from the green of youth into the time of flaming color of adult.
It is time to look into the mirror lake and walk forward.
Something wet hits my face and my deep thoughts are broken. I look
towards the wall of deep green pines. Here a soft white dances on the wind.
It swirls, dips, and twists silently with the wind. The first snow of the
season. The ground is warm, yet the white remains for a few moments before
soaking into the dry lands. Winter beauty will soon be replacing the
brilliant forest of fall. As the seasons move on so most I - no matter how
hard I wish time to pass me by.
written by ShyHawk(FM)
fall of 2001
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