Imagine...
This week finally feels like spring. The day after a hard rain in Maryland I walked through carpets of wildflowers and saw my first redbud tree in full bloom as I descended into Harper's Ferry, West Virginia. Here in Front Royal, VA, at the northern end of the Shenandoah National Park I took a zero day with Alison and hiking friends Jan, Jim and Chuck and enjoyed a warm summer-like day doing laundry, restocking food, and making some modifications to my gear. Chuck is joinimg me to backpack the 100 miles of the park and the others are doing day hikes with us for a couple of days before heading back to warm dry homes.
My thoughts this week as I passed the 400 miles mark drifted into various plot lines and scenarios for possible stories inspired by the weather and the woods - story lines that maybe I'll develop into short stories in the months after I finish this hike.
I passed the time walking alone in the woods letting ideas like this bubble in my head....
A thousand centuries ago a small band of naked Homo Sapiens are gathered at the edge of a vast grassland that spreads endlessly to the horizon. Zebras, wildebeests, and giraffes dot the open plain. The people warm themselves at the side of a fire. It has been only three or four generations since the smartest human being that ever lived figured out how to create fire and control it. Banging stones together to make a cutting tool that would allow people to eat the flesh and organs of antelopes without biting through the thick hide with their pitifully dull human teeth, the tool maker watches sparks jump from the rocks with each crack. The tool maker suddenly sees a connection. Remembering the fires created when lightning struck the dry grasslands, she wondered if the sparks and lightning were the same thing. Could she create small fire with sparks the way the sky creates fire? She remembers finding charred bodies of animals after fires and her mouth waters at the memory of the smell and taste of the tender cooked meat. She wants to savor that taste again. After a thousand tries, she figures out how to pile dry grass and sticks together just so and how to strike the rocks at just the right angle. And suddenly she has fire. Now her grandchildren are warm on a cold night and feast on blackened deer meat. The rest is pre-history...
Or...
The black silhouettes emerged from the dense fog - three large faceless men wearing horned helmets sitting astride giant black horses that spewed steam from saucer-sized nostrils. The largest of the men looked at me long and hard. I couldn't see his face but I sensed his intense anger. "I will ask you one question, stranger," he says with a voice like gravel under a heavy wooden wheel, "If you answer falsely, you will die a long, painful, excruciating death begging for days for me to kill you before you finally die. Answer truthfully and I will give you a quick and painless voyage to Valhalla." My mouth went dry. I was about to die. The man spoke again. "The question is: What is your name?" I could not imagine why he would care to know my name. Nor could I imagine how he would know if I lied or not. I told the truth. "My name is Pepsi." The large man said nothing for a moment. The horses continued to blow harsh steam into the air around me. The other men sat rock still on their steeds. The the large man's shoulders slumped and he quietly muttered, "Aw shit."
(To be continued.)
Or...
A fair maiden on a white unicorn came around the bend in the trail. Creatures like Oberon and Puck followed closely behind singing a magical pixie song.....OK, never mind, I'll let that story simmer some more . I'm not that good at fairy stories.
So anyway, sometimes when I'm not seeking Zen clarity on the trail, I let my mind wander. I create my own trail narratives. It is my own built-in form of entertainment. The mind is a strange thing when you let it go wherever the breeze takes it.
My thoughts this week as I passed the 400 miles mark drifted into various plot lines and scenarios for possible stories inspired by the weather and the woods - story lines that maybe I'll develop into short stories in the months after I finish this hike.
I passed the time walking alone in the woods letting ideas like this bubble in my head....
A thousand centuries ago a small band of naked Homo Sapiens are gathered at the edge of a vast grassland that spreads endlessly to the horizon. Zebras, wildebeests, and giraffes dot the open plain. The people warm themselves at the side of a fire. It has been only three or four generations since the smartest human being that ever lived figured out how to create fire and control it. Banging stones together to make a cutting tool that would allow people to eat the flesh and organs of antelopes without biting through the thick hide with their pitifully dull human teeth, the tool maker watches sparks jump from the rocks with each crack. The tool maker suddenly sees a connection. Remembering the fires created when lightning struck the dry grasslands, she wondered if the sparks and lightning were the same thing. Could she create small fire with sparks the way the sky creates fire? She remembers finding charred bodies of animals after fires and her mouth waters at the memory of the smell and taste of the tender cooked meat. She wants to savor that taste again. After a thousand tries, she figures out how to pile dry grass and sticks together just so and how to strike the rocks at just the right angle. And suddenly she has fire. Now her grandchildren are warm on a cold night and feast on blackened deer meat. The rest is pre-history...
Or...
The black silhouettes emerged from the dense fog - three large faceless men wearing horned helmets sitting astride giant black horses that spewed steam from saucer-sized nostrils. The largest of the men looked at me long and hard. I couldn't see his face but I sensed his intense anger. "I will ask you one question, stranger," he says with a voice like gravel under a heavy wooden wheel, "If you answer falsely, you will die a long, painful, excruciating death begging for days for me to kill you before you finally die. Answer truthfully and I will give you a quick and painless voyage to Valhalla." My mouth went dry. I was about to die. The man spoke again. "The question is: What is your name?" I could not imagine why he would care to know my name. Nor could I imagine how he would know if I lied or not. I told the truth. "My name is Pepsi." The large man said nothing for a moment. The horses continued to blow harsh steam into the air around me. The other men sat rock still on their steeds. The the large man's shoulders slumped and he quietly muttered, "Aw shit."
(To be continued.)
Or...
A fair maiden on a white unicorn came around the bend in the trail. Creatures like Oberon and Puck followed closely behind singing a magical pixie song.....OK, never mind, I'll let that story simmer some more . I'm not that good at fairy stories.
So anyway, sometimes when I'm not seeking Zen clarity on the trail, I let my mind wander. I create my own trail narratives. It is my own built-in form of entertainment. The mind is a strange thing when you let it go wherever the breeze takes it.
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| Unicorn-inspiring wildflowers... |
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| The first redbud |
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| First view of the Shenandoah from Bears Den Rocks |
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| Mama and baby in Shenandoah |
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