As I left for Asheville and the gentle Swannanoa Valley, the introduction to "Down in the Willow Garden" would not leave my head. I exulted in the grand morning warmth and took pictures as I devoured the light with my eyes. My moped rode strong and my heart ran happy. Later on, this morning my heart sang out the melody to "Wagoneer's Lad" but with these words:
The wind it is howlin' / And the night is so cold / And your mind it is doubting / As you stray from the fold / Oh, The road it is long, now / and the rain is unkind / and wind blows without mercy / But you'll make it somehow / Your hands they are trembling / As you struggle up the hill / You wonder of your fate / If your desires you'll fill / What you see at the hilltop / As first light meets your gaze / Will leave you hungry / For the rest of your days / The road it is long now / What you see along the way / Will still leave you hungry / For the rest of your days / The sun -- she shows her glory / From the dawn until the night / And her rhythm will be with you / For the rest of your lives
I went up to a multi-cultural festival in Black Mountain, North Carolina. It was a weekend of spiritual renewal, re-commitment, and the setting of new personal goals. How I viewed all the beautiful people is painted in my companion blog "Lord, I Would Follow Thee." I will now tell of my journey back.
I prayed to make South Carolina by nightfall. I began in Black Mountain. I headed south through Asheville down to Hendersonville, just missing the rainstorm I saw to the west. The mountains grew more worthy of lore and folk legend the nearer dusk came. Their deep purple passed to my right with sunset whites and yellows of clouds. Keeping along at a good 40 mph, I felt myself sinking further towards the escarpment. I did so suddenly as the 178 dropped dramatically and brought me into Saluda, North Carolina. It was so quaint and lovely (they even had an organic farmer's market) that I said, "I would like to live here for a growing season or two". Never has a town grabbed my heart so quickly. I continued along the 178, running nearby the Saluda grade (railroad), claimed to be the steepest in the United States. And with all the braking I had to do, I believed it. I often looked behind me, and saw the same cloud colors I had seen an hour previous. I had left the mountains and entered the escarpment, and discovered an experience few may ever realize: A double sunset. The rich deep forest of trees and bushes showed their moist vibrant greens, growing heartily on the exposed eroded slopes. I made one last passing glance at the mountains unexpectedly. After Tyron, NC, right before all color faded from the sky, I came across the proverbial last ray of sunshine. The trees opened up as I crossed a power-line and ambient near-dark became brighter haze. This haze nearly enveloped the lines as they moved out into the distance, and I saw a far mountain ridge enveloped in a halo of gentle crimson. My heart stretched outward in that direction, much like the power lines. Just as much energy, just as much tensile strength. As I departed, the mountains called out to me . . . one. last. time. And they knew they'd get me. Read on, you'll see.
The wind it is howlin' / And the night is so cold / And your mind it is doubting / As you stray from the fold / Oh, The road it is long, now / and the rain is unkind / and wind blows without mercy / But you'll make it somehow / Your hands they are trembling / As you struggle up the hill / You wonder of your fate / If your desires you'll fill / What you see at the hilltop / As first light meets your gaze / Will leave you hungry / For the rest of your days / The road it is long now / What you see along the way / Will still leave you hungry / For the rest of your days / The sun -- she shows her glory / From the dawn until the night / And her rhythm will be with you / For the rest of your lives
I went up to a multi-cultural festival in Black Mountain, North Carolina. It was a weekend of spiritual renewal, re-commitment, and the setting of new personal goals. How I viewed all the beautiful people is painted in my companion blog "Lord, I Would Follow Thee." I will now tell of my journey back.
I prayed to make South Carolina by nightfall. I began in Black Mountain. I headed south through Asheville down to Hendersonville, just missing the rainstorm I saw to the west. The mountains grew more worthy of lore and folk legend the nearer dusk came. Their deep purple passed to my right with sunset whites and yellows of clouds. Keeping along at a good 40 mph, I felt myself sinking further towards the escarpment. I did so suddenly as the 178 dropped dramatically and brought me into Saluda, North Carolina. It was so quaint and lovely (they even had an organic farmer's market) that I said, "I would like to live here for a growing season or two". Never has a town grabbed my heart so quickly. I continued along the 178, running nearby the Saluda grade (railroad), claimed to be the steepest in the United States. And with all the braking I had to do, I believed it. I often looked behind me, and saw the same cloud colors I had seen an hour previous. I had left the mountains and entered the escarpment, and discovered an experience few may ever realize: A double sunset. The rich deep forest of trees and bushes showed their moist vibrant greens, growing heartily on the exposed eroded slopes. I made one last passing glance at the mountains unexpectedly. After Tyron, NC, right before all color faded from the sky, I came across the proverbial last ray of sunshine. The trees opened up as I crossed a power-line and ambient near-dark became brighter haze. This haze nearly enveloped the lines as they moved out into the distance, and I saw a far mountain ridge enveloped in a halo of gentle crimson. My heart stretched outward in that direction, much like the power lines. Just as much energy, just as much tensile strength. As I departed, the mountains called out to me . . . one. last. time. And they knew they'd get me. Read on, you'll see.
No comments:
Post a Comment