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: photography
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.
Entanglement
Growing up with livestock means barbed wire. Some people actually collect old rusted samples of it and there’s certain vintages that are more desirable than others. It’s not uncommon to find a section of the stuff sticking out of a tree that has grown up on a fence row and absorbed the wire as the tree grew. There was also a lot of barbed wire on the ground. Sometimes it’s covered with decades of fallen leaves all except for the loop that’s just below the weeds and waiting to catch your foot like a snare. Believe me, it will drop you like a rock if you’re careless around old fences that are poorly maintained.
Sometimes in life we get tossed down when we’re least expecting it. If we look around to see what tripped us up we’ll usually find that it was a responsibility that we ourselves neglected. What’s more is that it’s easier to handle taking care responsibly when it’s fresh than it is to fix something that has been left undone for too long.
Crafts of Ansted
Hello Friends and travelers! I just wanted to let my readers know about Crafts of Ansted. It is located in the old Blue Smoke Salsa building in Ansted West Virginia. (Directions found on the Facebook page in the link) I have prints for sale at at this wonderful little shop . Some which have been published here on my blog and others which have not yet been featured.
However, you already know about me. I wanted to let you know about all the other wonderful things that you can find in the gift shop.
Artists from the local area have produced an awesome array of art in different media. There are quilts, crocheted items, books, tie-dyed tee shirts, paintings and more! Since a picture is worth a thousand words and that’s my main media here’s a short essay about what can be purchased here. 😍 When you’re in the area visiting the New River Gorge Bridge, Hawks Nest State Park or a fishing trip to Boley Lake at Babcock State Park it’s certainly worth stopping by our little co-op for some hand made souvenirs 😁
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.
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