Upon entering Eden, she's greeted with a calming presence. Moving down the pathway, the whirlpools of jade beckon to her. She stops, transfixed by the swirling waters. It is a reminder of how her spirit has been tossed. Unlike her spirit, this has a soothing effect.
Moving on, she searches for a seat. She finds the perfect rock over the water. Stepping carefully between boulders, she reaches it and sits. Bare feet dip into icy water. Her breath is taken by it. Sitting still, the cool breeze caresses her cheek. She enjoys it's touch... the touch within her spirit. Slowly, peace floods her soul.
Her eyes search the pathway of the flow. She watches it make it's way between the stones blocking it's path. Nothing will stop it from making it's endless journey. Chills ripple through her body as skin, once again, skims the surface of the water below. Exotic spills rush by taking away the cares. She's needed this so.
Surrounded by mountains on all sides, she relishes their embrace. The solitude is a safe place, a healing refuge. Skin begins to warm as sunlight makes it's way through the trees to light the dim of the cove. Sounds of the cascades nearby, the roar fills the small space.
As if by magic, she's forgotten recent troubles. As the rush of the water below washes the rocks, so does the touch of Eden cleanse her soul. Serene now, she closes her eyes. She knows she will be okay, for she is not alone.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Seeking Adventure
I felt a sense of happiness and fun before ever leaving home to come to the mountains today. After having been trapped indoors all week in training, I'm ready to spend some time outdoors.
As always, being here in the mountains, is a balm to my soul. Today, though, feels a little different. With the good mood that I brought, I feel adventurous. A ways into the trail, I spot the fallen tree across the creek again. As soon as my eyes land on it, I know. After resisting so many times, I know what will happen. With a smile and a childlike thrill, I jump onto what has become my bridge across the creek.
With arms outstretched, I head across. Finally, doing what I was tempted to do all winter. Step after careful step, I make it to the other side! Yay! Now, to make it back.. Hopping on again, braver this time, I walk back across. I jump off with the happiness of doing what I had wanted for so long :-)
I begin to feel the rain sprinkling lightly. With the darkening skies, the sound of the wind overhead becomes foreboding. Exactly what I came for. I love all moods of the Smokies.
I leave the main trail for an unnamed trail. It is narrow and shaded. The feeling of excitement builds. The smile hasn't left my face since starting out. I come across a massive tree that has fallen and takes up the trail for a good ways. I must leave the trail and go downhill to get around. At the bottom, I skirt a bog. I make my way back up the hill to the trail.
At this point, the wind is roaring like a freight train. I feel such anticipation as the trail closes in around me, trees crowding close. My ears are tuned to the forest. Especially after a recent conversation with a friend about wild boar in the Smokies. This has undoubtedly become the adventure that I set out for.
Soon after the trail breaks free into a clearing with short trees that curve and coil like snakes. I feel I've entered a fantastic world where animals and rocks should talk. I move on in this world that I have found. The smile grows wider.
Yet again, I hear the cracking from above. My steps slow as I peer upward. So many trees sway in the wind.
I've come so far into this wonderland without being prepared, that I know I should turn around. I'm not ready to resist the magnetic hold it has on me yet. I come to a spot where the trail splits. To the right it is so faint, you could lose your way. To the left, you must traverse fallen limbs to make it across. I choose the left.
Stopping short..What was that noise!? A squeal. Definitely an animal, I'm just not sure what kind. Added to this, I hear the creaking of a tree immediately behind and the groaning of one ahead. Once again, I hear the sounds of the animal. It could be the young. Knowing it wouldn't be wise to near a mother and babies of any sort, I take the fainter trail.
Too soon, this trail ends at another creek. I backtrack. I stop at the first trail again, contemplating going on. Hearing the sound again, combined with the massive tree swaying nearby, convinces me that I've pushed my luck. I've been here much longer than anticipated and gone much further than I planned.
I stop to rest on a small fallen tree, before I make my way back out. Around the massive tree, down the hill, near the bog, I walk.
I soon reach the first trail. The wind is still strong. Not far ahead, I hear a massive crash. Out here, in this wind, there is only one thing it could be. The wind has won it's fight with the forest and a tree has fallen. I do not know what to expect when I round the curve. Almost hoping for another massive fallen tree, I see nothing. I'll never know what tree made the sound.
Brilliant sunlight breaks free of the clouds, blue skies peep through and the winds lessen. As if, the mountains are saying to me that they gave me the excitement I wanted. Now that I'm leaving, they can calm.
Today, as every other day that I come, the Smokies have blessed me with what I came for...a little adventure.
As always, being here in the mountains, is a balm to my soul. Today, though, feels a little different. With the good mood that I brought, I feel adventurous. A ways into the trail, I spot the fallen tree across the creek again. As soon as my eyes land on it, I know. After resisting so many times, I know what will happen. With a smile and a childlike thrill, I jump onto what has become my bridge across the creek.
With arms outstretched, I head across. Finally, doing what I was tempted to do all winter. Step after careful step, I make it to the other side! Yay! Now, to make it back.. Hopping on again, braver this time, I walk back across. I jump off with the happiness of doing what I had wanted for so long :-)
I begin to feel the rain sprinkling lightly. With the darkening skies, the sound of the wind overhead becomes foreboding. Exactly what I came for. I love all moods of the Smokies.
I leave the main trail for an unnamed trail. It is narrow and shaded. The feeling of excitement builds. The smile hasn't left my face since starting out. I come across a massive tree that has fallen and takes up the trail for a good ways. I must leave the trail and go downhill to get around. At the bottom, I skirt a bog. I make my way back up the hill to the trail.
At this point, the wind is roaring like a freight train. I feel such anticipation as the trail closes in around me, trees crowding close. My ears are tuned to the forest. Especially after a recent conversation with a friend about wild boar in the Smokies. This has undoubtedly become the adventure that I set out for.
Soon after the trail breaks free into a clearing with short trees that curve and coil like snakes. I feel I've entered a fantastic world where animals and rocks should talk. I move on in this world that I have found. The smile grows wider.
Yet again, I hear the cracking from above. My steps slow as I peer upward. So many trees sway in the wind.
I've come so far into this wonderland without being prepared, that I know I should turn around. I'm not ready to resist the magnetic hold it has on me yet. I come to a spot where the trail splits. To the right it is so faint, you could lose your way. To the left, you must traverse fallen limbs to make it across. I choose the left.
Stopping short..What was that noise!? A squeal. Definitely an animal, I'm just not sure what kind. Added to this, I hear the creaking of a tree immediately behind and the groaning of one ahead. Once again, I hear the sounds of the animal. It could be the young. Knowing it wouldn't be wise to near a mother and babies of any sort, I take the fainter trail.
Too soon, this trail ends at another creek. I backtrack. I stop at the first trail again, contemplating going on. Hearing the sound again, combined with the massive tree swaying nearby, convinces me that I've pushed my luck. I've been here much longer than anticipated and gone much further than I planned.
I stop to rest on a small fallen tree, before I make my way back out. Around the massive tree, down the hill, near the bog, I walk.
I soon reach the first trail. The wind is still strong. Not far ahead, I hear a massive crash. Out here, in this wind, there is only one thing it could be. The wind has won it's fight with the forest and a tree has fallen. I do not know what to expect when I round the curve. Almost hoping for another massive fallen tree, I see nothing. I'll never know what tree made the sound.
Brilliant sunlight breaks free of the clouds, blue skies peep through and the winds lessen. As if, the mountains are saying to me that they gave me the excitement I wanted. Now that I'm leaving, they can calm.
Today, as every other day that I come, the Smokies have blessed me with what I came for...a little adventure.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Kastalia of the Rivers
My name is Kastalia. For I am a water nymph, daughter of Lord Neraeos and Lady Ourania. I am a caretaker of the rivers. I was created for a purpose. That purpose being to tend the rivers of the Smokies.
I have come to partake of the solace of my favorite river. I make my way across a tiny stream in the hills. Beautiful, yet I move on. I know what awaits. I hear it's roar in the distance. It calls my name. I am of it. It is of me.
Dew from the heavens has begun to fall. It lands upon my bare shoulders, tracing it's way down my body. I step carefully across roots left for me by a mischievous wood nymph.
The river is now in sight. Oh, what it does to me! Gently, I tiptoe forward. I am close. My breath is taken by it's majesty.
The path downhill becomes treacherous, scattered with huge boulders. I can make it, for the river is my home. The moisture from the night has caused the river to rise. I make it to water's edge and breathe the essence deeply.
The flow, the rush of emerald water captivate me. Choosing a riverside stone, I sit. It is my duty as a river nymph to keep the waters pure. Yet, I do not see it as a duty. For I love the rivers of these mountains. Reaching down, with fingertips, I trace a path through the pool at my side.
Looking across, I see the gnarled roots of trees clinging to the banks. Thinking back to times that I have used these at seats, allowing my legs to be washed by the cascades below.
Wanting to visit more of the river, I make my way back uphill and down the riverside path. I am a keeper of this river, but all of nature speaks to me. The bark of the trees, the gray of a stone, the green of the foliage hold such an allure.
As I move along, the roar of the river is a beautiful aria being sung only for me. It's soothing notes reach deeply within and touch my soul. I tend the river, but it also tends me.
I move down each tiny path to visit the waters. I see my wood nymph friends frolicking through the trees. Not me, for I take my time relishing the sounds of the river, the feel of the falling rain. It continues to drift lazily down my skin. I take the moisture from my lips with a single touch, savoring the taste. I may be a keeper of the rivers, but all of the waters of the mountains are sacred to me. They were given to me by my father. For I am Kastalia, the river nymph.
I have come to partake of the solace of my favorite river. I make my way across a tiny stream in the hills. Beautiful, yet I move on. I know what awaits. I hear it's roar in the distance. It calls my name. I am of it. It is of me.
Dew from the heavens has begun to fall. It lands upon my bare shoulders, tracing it's way down my body. I step carefully across roots left for me by a mischievous wood nymph.
The river is now in sight. Oh, what it does to me! Gently, I tiptoe forward. I am close. My breath is taken by it's majesty.
The path downhill becomes treacherous, scattered with huge boulders. I can make it, for the river is my home. The moisture from the night has caused the river to rise. I make it to water's edge and breathe the essence deeply.
The flow, the rush of emerald water captivate me. Choosing a riverside stone, I sit. It is my duty as a river nymph to keep the waters pure. Yet, I do not see it as a duty. For I love the rivers of these mountains. Reaching down, with fingertips, I trace a path through the pool at my side.
Looking across, I see the gnarled roots of trees clinging to the banks. Thinking back to times that I have used these at seats, allowing my legs to be washed by the cascades below.
Wanting to visit more of the river, I make my way back uphill and down the riverside path. I am a keeper of this river, but all of nature speaks to me. The bark of the trees, the gray of a stone, the green of the foliage hold such an allure.
As I move along, the roar of the river is a beautiful aria being sung only for me. It's soothing notes reach deeply within and touch my soul. I tend the river, but it also tends me.
I move down each tiny path to visit the waters. I see my wood nymph friends frolicking through the trees. Not me, for I take my time relishing the sounds of the river, the feel of the falling rain. It continues to drift lazily down my skin. I take the moisture from my lips with a single touch, savoring the taste. I may be a keeper of the rivers, but all of the waters of the mountains are sacred to me. They were given to me by my father. For I am Kastalia, the river nymph.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Just for Fun
Feeling in a mischievous and bit of an energetic mood, I decide to go for a walk in the Smokies before the evening storms hit. I message a friend to let him know which of three trails I may choose. (Which would be the only safe thing that I did today) Somehow, I find myself on an entirely different trail than these altogether.
I choose a trail that I have not tried before. Something feels very familiar about the trail. Not far onto it, I pass backcountry hikers leaving. They are carrying so much gear that I began to look for their sherpa :) I am impressed because I couldn't make it to my mailbox carrying this amount of gear!
The temps are perfect for being here. The trail turns into a climb. I had to choose something with this incline today, just getting over an illness? The trail becomes muddy. I cling to the side of the hill, hanging onto tree after tree. I begin to channel Tarzan.
I feel the wind picking up from the approaching windstorm. I had told my friend that, as usual, if I heard the splintering of a tree my plan was to run.. in any direction. He said to stop and determine the tree, so I don't run under it. I say, "No, a moving target is harder to hit!" lol
I begin to sing, "I think I'm alone now. There doesn't seem to be anyone around", but am interrupted by the sound of a creaking tree. Not a pleasant sound with the wind blowing! I come across a tree that has fallen and is propped over the trail. I count to 3 and run under laughing.
Wait! I hear splintering. Grrr! As much as I want to run, I stand still and see a large tree swaying and creaking well away from the trail. I notice a massive vine hanging from another tree and am tempted to really play Tarzan. Considering the condition of the old tree, I think, "Not a bright idea." I begin to feel raindrops. Dark clouds are moving in. I've figured out what seems to familiar about the trail. It is a larger version of one of my favorite areas in the Smokies that I call "The Secret Garden".
Soon, I come upon a much wider stream crossing the trail. Walking up and down it, I search for a way across. I think to the walking stick that I left in the car. Not a good move. I hesitate, then head across anyway. I made it! It took balancing on fifteen rocks (yes, I counted) , but I made it. Yay me!
A third tree is leaning over the trail. 1.2.3 run! This trail looks like something in a foreign land. It reminds me of the first time I saw the Smokies. Thinking, "Hey, there are, actually, places that look like this outside of a calendar?" :))
I can't believe that I've made it this far. This isn't hard for others, but feeling as I do lately- it's Mt Everest. Maybe the B12 shot helped or I just had a really good night... I'm going with the night. :-))
With the rain becoming heavier, I decide that I have pushed my luck and turn around. As I leave, a high stack of stones catch my eye. I go uphill to investigate. I'm not sure what it is (maybe part of an old fireplace from a homestead?) but as I turn I see a large amount of black fur on the ground. Okay, I'm out of here! I'm thinking that it's not time for bear yet, but if I were a bear, this weather lately would've been too good to pass up! lol
Third downed tree passed, two more to go. I keep looking over my shoulder because the trail beckons me to come back. Well... that and I'm making sure the owner of the black fur is not behind me and hungry. I repeat to myself, "I am not a berry or a grub, I am not a berry or a grub!"
I make it back to the creek and across without falling in. The rain has become steady. I'm thankful that I turned around when I did. Second tree then last tree, I employ my method of safety for the last time and run under. Instead of braving the rest of the muddy trail, I decide to climb the hill and avoid the mud. Why didn't I think of this the first time?
Unfortunately, I know that I'm nearing the end of the trail. Rounding the curve, I see the parking area. I did it! I have beat the storm and have reached my goal, yet again today. That goal being.. just to have a little fun.
I choose a trail that I have not tried before. Something feels very familiar about the trail. Not far onto it, I pass backcountry hikers leaving. They are carrying so much gear that I began to look for their sherpa :) I am impressed because I couldn't make it to my mailbox carrying this amount of gear!
The temps are perfect for being here. The trail turns into a climb. I had to choose something with this incline today, just getting over an illness? The trail becomes muddy. I cling to the side of the hill, hanging onto tree after tree. I begin to channel Tarzan.
I feel the wind picking up from the approaching windstorm. I had told my friend that, as usual, if I heard the splintering of a tree my plan was to run.. in any direction. He said to stop and determine the tree, so I don't run under it. I say, "No, a moving target is harder to hit!" lol
I begin to sing, "I think I'm alone now. There doesn't seem to be anyone around", but am interrupted by the sound of a creaking tree. Not a pleasant sound with the wind blowing! I come across a tree that has fallen and is propped over the trail. I count to 3 and run under laughing.
Wait! I hear splintering. Grrr! As much as I want to run, I stand still and see a large tree swaying and creaking well away from the trail. I notice a massive vine hanging from another tree and am tempted to really play Tarzan. Considering the condition of the old tree, I think, "Not a bright idea." I begin to feel raindrops. Dark clouds are moving in. I've figured out what seems to familiar about the trail. It is a larger version of one of my favorite areas in the Smokies that I call "The Secret Garden".
Soon, I come upon a much wider stream crossing the trail. Walking up and down it, I search for a way across. I think to the walking stick that I left in the car. Not a good move. I hesitate, then head across anyway. I made it! It took balancing on fifteen rocks (yes, I counted) , but I made it. Yay me!
A third tree is leaning over the trail. 1.2.3 run! This trail looks like something in a foreign land. It reminds me of the first time I saw the Smokies. Thinking, "Hey, there are, actually, places that look like this outside of a calendar?" :))
I can't believe that I've made it this far. This isn't hard for others, but feeling as I do lately- it's Mt Everest. Maybe the B12 shot helped or I just had a really good night... I'm going with the night. :-))
With the rain becoming heavier, I decide that I have pushed my luck and turn around. As I leave, a high stack of stones catch my eye. I go uphill to investigate. I'm not sure what it is (maybe part of an old fireplace from a homestead?) but as I turn I see a large amount of black fur on the ground. Okay, I'm out of here! I'm thinking that it's not time for bear yet, but if I were a bear, this weather lately would've been too good to pass up! lol
Third downed tree passed, two more to go. I keep looking over my shoulder because the trail beckons me to come back. Well... that and I'm making sure the owner of the black fur is not behind me and hungry. I repeat to myself, "I am not a berry or a grub, I am not a berry or a grub!"
I make it back to the creek and across without falling in. The rain has become steady. I'm thankful that I turned around when I did. Second tree then last tree, I employ my method of safety for the last time and run under. Instead of braving the rest of the muddy trail, I decide to climb the hill and avoid the mud. Why didn't I think of this the first time?
Unfortunately, I know that I'm nearing the end of the trail. Rounding the curve, I see the parking area. I did it! I have beat the storm and have reached my goal, yet again today. That goal being.. just to have a little fun.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Strength Given, Strength Found
Having been sick for over two weeks, I had no plans to be on a Smokies trail anytime soon. Even so, I decide to take a late evening walk. I choose the easiest, flattest trail that comes to mind.
Still not feeling well, I slowly head down the trail, one foot in front of the other. A few short steps into it, I feel my spirits begin to lighten. The trickle of the creek, the rustle of what leaves there are, the crunch of the trail underfoot and the low hum of the wind cause a small smile to spread. Oh, how I have missed this!
I pause to study the flow of the stream. I would love to walk the few feet downhill to stand beside the it, but do not look forward to the effort it would take coming back uphill to the trail. So, I move on. My footsteps are very slow, but in taking my time, I find things that I had never noticed. Exactly the way the stream to my right shifts direction as it joins the bigger creek is but one.
As always, I find peace in the waters of my sanctuary. The water is so low right now that it must work to find it's way through the maze of boulders to flow. It shimmers in one spot as it flows in a thin layer over a low flat shelf of stone in the creek bed.
Feeling as I do, I turn around much sooner than I would have liked to. I see a tree lying on it's side. It has fallen next to the trail since I was here last. I hear a sound and recognize it as a woodpecker somewhere up the side of the mountain. All sights, sounds and sensations here work their usual magic on me. I am so glad I chose to come.
I see the trail snaking it's way toward the end. I am okay with that for I have found what I came for. The solace that my oasis offers. I gave the physical strength to make it today to spend time in my beautiful mountains. In turn, I walk away given the strength to my soul by the spirit of the Great Smoky Mountains.
Still not feeling well, I slowly head down the trail, one foot in front of the other. A few short steps into it, I feel my spirits begin to lighten. The trickle of the creek, the rustle of what leaves there are, the crunch of the trail underfoot and the low hum of the wind cause a small smile to spread. Oh, how I have missed this!
I pause to study the flow of the stream. I would love to walk the few feet downhill to stand beside the it, but do not look forward to the effort it would take coming back uphill to the trail. So, I move on. My footsteps are very slow, but in taking my time, I find things that I had never noticed. Exactly the way the stream to my right shifts direction as it joins the bigger creek is but one.
As always, I find peace in the waters of my sanctuary. The water is so low right now that it must work to find it's way through the maze of boulders to flow. It shimmers in one spot as it flows in a thin layer over a low flat shelf of stone in the creek bed.
Feeling as I do, I turn around much sooner than I would have liked to. I see a tree lying on it's side. It has fallen next to the trail since I was here last. I hear a sound and recognize it as a woodpecker somewhere up the side of the mountain. All sights, sounds and sensations here work their usual magic on me. I am so glad I chose to come.
I see the trail snaking it's way toward the end. I am okay with that for I have found what I came for. The solace that my oasis offers. I gave the physical strength to make it today to spend time in my beautiful mountains. In turn, I walk away given the strength to my soul by the spirit of the Great Smoky Mountains.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Waters of Eden
arched stone bridge,
harbors treasure untold,
no name, no name, beauty so great,
emeralds, tumble and swirl,
underwater, burnett sways,
scores of bubbles, foam white pristine,
sound, ah but the sound,
cascades roar,
layer upon layer, falling, peaceful chaos,
collage, shapes sizes textures, river stones,
jade pools, serene between falls,
summer comes,
barefoot wading thrills,
tiny rocks, toes buried,
flowing, flowing, endless
icicles, bank roots decor
gibraltars rock, stream divided
ripples, slowly toward
fallen tree trunk,
tickled by currents of ice melt
it's twists, upturned roots
unfathomed by Picasso,
followed, springs fountain of youth,
my paradise
until Heaven
my Eden
harbors treasure untold,
no name, no name, beauty so great,
emeralds, tumble and swirl,
underwater, burnett sways,
scores of bubbles, foam white pristine,
sound, ah but the sound,
cascades roar,
layer upon layer, falling, peaceful chaos,
collage, shapes sizes textures, river stones,
jade pools, serene between falls,
summer comes,
barefoot wading thrills,
tiny rocks, toes buried,
flowing, flowing, endless
icicles, bank roots decor
gibraltars rock, stream divided
ripples, slowly toward
fallen tree trunk,
tickled by currents of ice melt
it's twists, upturned roots
unfathomed by Picasso,
followed, springs fountain of youth,
my paradise
until Heaven
my Eden
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Shared Secrets
Having a little extra time, I decide to walk up Bote Mountain Trail. I seldom set out with a thought as to how the trail will make me feel on a certain day. Some trails, by their "personality" have a mood already set.
Bote Mountain Trail brings to mind the route that was used to reach Spence Field in the past by James Spence, but nature itself begins to override thoughts of history as I climb. On this hike, the splendor of the earth stands out. I begin to think of those who can't or haven't yet been able to come to the Smokies. Daily, I remind myself not to take for granted the blessing of living here. I think of those unable and wish to convey this beauty.
During my walk, there are still slight snow flurries, the snowflakes so small, as to be almost invisible. Rocky surfaces of the mountain peek from beneath the snow here and there. Snow, that has lain for several days now, pops and cracks loudly with each step, reverberating through the hills.
The rock face of the mountain wall beside me has crevices and fissures so deep, I could stick an arm in and have it disappear. Lichen, covering the rocks, is one of the few remaining greens out here. There are many fallen trees left from a recent windstorm. Several inches of snow line each one, creating an interesting aspect to the view.
I edge closely to the dropoff on my right, peering down through limbs to see the stream far below. As always, here in the Smokies, it is crystal clear. I can see the bed of the creek, even from where I stand.
I move on. A fallen tree lies across the path. I use the walking stick that I carry to steady my footing. I am thankful for it, especially with my feet slipping occasionally on the ice. The snow has melted somewhat and become hard packed. This has left a surface that I can glide my feet on, as if on skates. In other places, my feet sink deeply into the snow. My shoes and the hem of my pants are damp already.
I pick up a sound as I move along. Tilting my head, I see the stirring of the trees high above. It is the sound of the whisper wind moving through the firs. Looking up in this manner, leaves me feeling very small. I have never heard the mountain speak in this exact dialect.
With the winter trees and snow covered ground, I am in a monochrome world. The only color are the few splashes of green and the red mud where a bit of snow has melted.
Hearing a taptap resonating from the woods, I scan the trees. I find the source. A woodpecker is perched on the side of a tree. I now recognize the sound that I had heard on a previous hike. It appears that I have disturbed it, as it flies away.
Even though curve after curve in the trail had drawn me, I stop. I know that I have reached my limit. I stand still, listening to the sound of the mountain secrets being confessed on the breeze. My heart returns the confidence by letting go of my own. Knowing that here, I will never be rejected.
As I turn to leave, I pause. Facing me is an untouched snowbank. Respectfully, with my walking stick, I carefully carve the words "The Smokies Whisperer" into it.
Feeling that I have left my presence in this simple manner, I turn and walk away.
Bote Mountain Trail brings to mind the route that was used to reach Spence Field in the past by James Spence, but nature itself begins to override thoughts of history as I climb. On this hike, the splendor of the earth stands out. I begin to think of those who can't or haven't yet been able to come to the Smokies. Daily, I remind myself not to take for granted the blessing of living here. I think of those unable and wish to convey this beauty.
During my walk, there are still slight snow flurries, the snowflakes so small, as to be almost invisible. Rocky surfaces of the mountain peek from beneath the snow here and there. Snow, that has lain for several days now, pops and cracks loudly with each step, reverberating through the hills.
The rock face of the mountain wall beside me has crevices and fissures so deep, I could stick an arm in and have it disappear. Lichen, covering the rocks, is one of the few remaining greens out here. There are many fallen trees left from a recent windstorm. Several inches of snow line each one, creating an interesting aspect to the view.
I edge closely to the dropoff on my right, peering down through limbs to see the stream far below. As always, here in the Smokies, it is crystal clear. I can see the bed of the creek, even from where I stand.
I move on. A fallen tree lies across the path. I use the walking stick that I carry to steady my footing. I am thankful for it, especially with my feet slipping occasionally on the ice. The snow has melted somewhat and become hard packed. This has left a surface that I can glide my feet on, as if on skates. In other places, my feet sink deeply into the snow. My shoes and the hem of my pants are damp already.
I pick up a sound as I move along. Tilting my head, I see the stirring of the trees high above. It is the sound of the whisper wind moving through the firs. Looking up in this manner, leaves me feeling very small. I have never heard the mountain speak in this exact dialect.
With the winter trees and snow covered ground, I am in a monochrome world. The only color are the few splashes of green and the red mud where a bit of snow has melted.
Hearing a taptap resonating from the woods, I scan the trees. I find the source. A woodpecker is perched on the side of a tree. I now recognize the sound that I had heard on a previous hike. It appears that I have disturbed it, as it flies away.
Even though curve after curve in the trail had drawn me, I stop. I know that I have reached my limit. I stand still, listening to the sound of the mountain secrets being confessed on the breeze. My heart returns the confidence by letting go of my own. Knowing that here, I will never be rejected.
As I turn to leave, I pause. Facing me is an untouched snowbank. Respectfully, with my walking stick, I carefully carve the words "The Smokies Whisperer" into it.
Feeling that I have left my presence in this simple manner, I turn and walk away.
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