My Affections For These Mountains

Ramble Log - October 11, 2023

It’s really peaceful sitting here beside Tumbling Creek after a day of meandering my way here and an overnight last night at the horse camp. Ah. There’s something about the sound of a babbling stream. It’s a sound that never grows old to my ears.

How far to get here today? I don’t know. How long to get here? Pretty much all day.

I was on the road at eight and got here at four. 

The drive was a good one with a lot of time on secondary roads seeing the side of America that I love to see. At least until I got close and tried using my GPS to guide me in. Talk about a ride in the mountains that it took me on. I backtracked and found my way in after stopping and asking directions at the local hardware store. Shirli and I were here only once and that was quite a while ago. And I missed the first turn the first time because they tore down the BBQ shack on the corner and built a bank there in its place. Talk about screwing with your important landmarks.

It's supposed to rain tonight so I didn’t set up my table. It’s a no cooking night. It’s amazing how simple the maintenance of life can be with a few basic items in my little pantry. I hope it does rain. The road in was really dusty and Fred could use a rinsing. Oh. And I like the sound of rain on the roof. Not only is it a comforting sound. It evokes memories of the home that I grew up in. It had a tin roof and no insulation in the attic space. You heard the rain on the tin roof. Music. Music to my ears.

I love these mountains.

Why do I love these mountains the way I do?

It’s deeper than the fact that Shirli and I played up here quite a lot and together developed emotional attachments based on common experience. These mountains, rivers, creeks, and streams were home to some important ancestors of mine way back there. Shirli found three Cherokee grandmothers back there in my ancestry on my maternal side. I knew of one. Shirli found two more. My affections for these mountains are a genetic connection. Some of my ancient ones lived and reared families here. I feel this place like I feel the drums at a pow wow.

I hate that Dyck can’t be here. Cuz Dyck Tracey. [Does anyone know what his real name is?] What an interesting individual to talk with. It was that stroke. He’s a fighter though. We all know that he wants to be here in his van with his dog “Lacey” instead of laid up in that facility.

I spent a few minutes visiting with Julie when I pulled in. She told me who was already here and mentioned that there aren’t as many of us anymore. I just nodded my head and thought to myself … How many empty chairs do I have in my life now?