Friday, March 8, 2013

One Fine Day With Don MacRae

One of the finest days I’ve ever experienced on this planet was a day back in June of the year 2000.  I spent those hours, from dawn to magnificent sunset to moon-rise, with my friend, Don MacRae.  We were deep in the West Virginia woods, at a place called The Wilderness, located  on an old-timer’s map with a tiny dot and the name of Hemlock.  Solitary -  alone on hundreds of acres, deep in a forested holler, with high ridges on either side.  Don and I tossed our shoes in the meadows and walked through silky moss that reached our shins and made us giggle.  It was a year of magnificent mountain laurel and honeysuckle which formed royal arbors over the foot path to the waterfalls. We splashed in the river, a tributary, yes, a fork, of the Middle Fork River.  The water was mountain run-off and cold, but the sun was dappling and warm as we stretched out on a huge rock and told tales that may or may not have been true.  At one point, we began to hear voices - those of children - and we wondered if perhaps some magic was in the air, but we came to our senses and jumped from rock to rock until we rounded a bend in the stream and saw a dozen youngsters, holding a hallelujah service in the water.  We approached with broad grins and they responded, saying they were inner city kids from St. Louis, Missouri, and they were having a week in the wilds and somehow had wandered several miles up an old forest road and discovered the 1870s Wilderness cabin.  They invited us to sing and pray along with them, but we took ourselves back to our own sort of meditations, marveling at what can appear out of thin mountain air. We explored the old Methodist cemetery in Hemlock, reverently walking between the tombstones, guessing at the stories of the people buried there.  As we drove along Hemlock Ridge, the setting sun turned such brilliant colors that we simply stopped the car on the dirt road and couldn’t move until the divine show was over.  My friend Don was like that sunset – magnificent colors, soaking up the beauty and majesty that all of life had to offer.  And, like all wise people, he understood playfulness and curiosity.  May we meet again someday, my friend, on a rock in the fork of a mountain stream.  Love, Beth

3 comments:

  1. Sounds like a truly ethereal day.We trip up to Hemlock on occasion. My wife is Vicki Reed Lennie Reed's daughter from up on Democrat Ridge in Queens. We live on a 92 acre farm on the stockyard road. Red Rock Rd.I have a small engine business and of course love photography.Can't wait for Fall to really get back at it.Anyway some great blogs here.
    Regards,Chuck Reed

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  3. hay there, your words make that ridge sound even more magical than it already is. great place to see those young ones enjoying the wilds.

    i saw my 1st shooting stars up the hill from your spot. for those who don't know that darkness of a still hemlock nite, seeing the perseids is divine.

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