Leaving behind the chaotic façade which most think of as the real world I continue down the silent road. Small things dart around inside the tall grass looking for the lost echo of birds. A world without bird’s songs is a creation without a voice. The silver sky weeps as muted wind howls in vain. The grasses and trees began to sway gently as if dancing in time with a forgotten memory. What was the tune? It’s on the tip of my useless tongue. I have to find the answer. As I search in despair for the solution I see movement out of corner of my eye. The dark shape floats above my head and I recognize the outline of a raven. The black feathers are almost iridescent and it’s unnaturally large. In its beak it carries a scroll. It would shriek if shrieking existed. The scroll lands at my feet. I unroll the parchment and the raven circles awaiting my reaction to the mystery I hold. Scratched on the inside of the parchment were ancient symbols that spoke of lost magic and words “The road ends in silence but begins in music. Let one who knows the secrets be the voice.” I nodded to raven and he dipped a wing in reply. I would undertake his quest to where the road begins.
… to be continued.
Tag: Country Roads
The Road Ends In Silence
I dreamt about a world of steel and concrete.
A world where the pace was hectic and one dare not stumble for fear of the crowd.
As I walked along in time with the daily march into chaos there was a gate unguarded.
I took the chance and walked through the threshold as the outside world vanished behind me.
No more hustle and bustle.
Steel and Glass gave way to open sky. Leaving only the wind.
Pavement crumbles away into earth.
Echoes fade into oblivion as I walked at different pace.
This road ends in silence.
Little Boys and Dirt Roads
I have often said that my highway to heaven is a dirt road. Dirt roads take us to places unknown and seldom seen. We enter another world where a good ATV ( commonly referred to as a 4 wheeler in my part of Appalachia) or your own feet are the best travel options. When I was a kid we would head out on an old dirt road like the one in the feature image ever chance we got. These roads often contain mud holes that more akin to ponds than potholes. In the spring and summer they’re normally full of tadpoles and newts. My brother and I would escape the heat of the mobile home by finding one of the largest holes we could back under the canopy of the trees to play in. We’d come home covered in mud after riding our bicycles through the mud as hard as we could. We were pretending to be motocross racers. We’d slam the brakes in mud and throw it out as hard as we could. Whoever could make the biggest splash was the winner. We’d play Evil Knievel too. (For those too young to remember he was the most famous stuntman of my youth. You can read about him here). My poor mother would have two boys who looked like mud monsters by the time we were done.
Later in life I would walk these dirt roads at a slower pace while stalking deer or just out exploring. Walking a road like the one in the feature image is kinda like being on a treadmill with people throwing mud, rocks and tree stumps at your feet. The mud settles in low spots and it’s a perfect way for a beginner to find animal tracks and learn about tracking.
Today necessity keeps me on the nice pavement. I walk through a world of concrete and asphalt. But I still long for an abandoned dirt road with a huge mud hole and a good off road bicycle.
A Squirrelly Post
Things get a little nuts on certain days. The crazy schedule of modern life can really drive one up a tree. I have driven over 130 miles and worked a full shift on my day job. I’m really ready to just hang out at home.
Okay, before I get too squirrelly with the puns let me tell you about the photo. This little guy lives in the woods behind my dad’s house. The property is crisscrossed with old logging trails that are perfect hiking. The squirrels are actually very curious and they are certain that they are true landlords here and need to check out anyone who dares to trespass. I really wanted a good shot of one of deer that roams the old home place but he wouldn’t allow it. Every few seconds or so he would pop up from the other side of the tree and chatter at me. These are not like the squirrels you see in the park that come up and beg for food. They do not like intrusion into their territory. There’s been a few times that they actually have thrown nuts at me from high in the tree tops. After I took the picture I moved on and let him win the debate. I have a whole forest to explore. Certainly he deserves to be the king of his tree.
The Fine Art of Cruising
Back in the day warm weather meant cruising. Now, there’s a fine art to this favored pastime of previous generations. First, you need a vehicle. It doesn’t have to be a classic vintage machine but that certainly helps. What’s important is the “CQ” or Coolness Quotient. If you don’t really have a classic ride then there’s several ways of compensating with what’s available.
For example, a compact car such as a Dodge Colt or a Chevy Sundance the preferred method was to fill the back seat with stereo equipment. Next, you needed a good mix tape. In the old days play lists were stored on high tech spools of magnetic film. It was important to make sure you had the right flow to the music because there’s no shuffle like we know today. You could fast forward or rewind. If you were really good at it you could count the seconds and stop the spooling at just the right time to get the song you wanted.
The next thing you need is a long stretch of quiet road and plenty of friends. The party starts in late afternoon. You simply spend hours and hours of driving slowly up and down that quite road with the volume on 10 and the windows down. Hopefully until the wee hours of the night. As you cruise the stretch you look for places to park and visit your friends.
On a good night every teenager in the county will be there. Some will push the envelope too far and the police might be called in to restore order but for the most part trouble is minor. For the guys it’s really about finding the girls. I suspect, that the girls would show up to be found by the right guy.
I’m sure the stories abound. Those kind of stories get better every time we tell them. 😉 What was really important was the memories and the friendships made.
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