On a sultry July afternoon scents of Lavender and Lilies rush through my car windows as a glide down the Shades provactive twists and dips. Woody bounds through the meadows as I follow on a walk. I find myself once again wandering the fields of Woodville contemplating the remains of the years. Nothing has changed out here in the Mountains where I ran as child. I might as well be eight years old catching fireflies out here; but I am not. Catching a jar full of lightning bugs, unfortunately, no longer qualifies as a reasonable quest to find oneself embarking upon. I look off into the Blue Ridge and see storm clouds teasing the horizon. I'd like to be up on Old Rag tonight hidden under a large boulder in the middle of a storm. Perhaps that would deafen my thoughts and invigorate a sense of being alive, so close to danger, but so very alive. The hair raises on the back of my neck and I toy with the idea of spending the night up on the summit.
6 comments:
Great shots... takes me back two nights. Not much changes in two years, at least in respect to myrtle beach, yahoos, and their fireworks.
... my grandma miss'd ya ;-)
heres alittle something for you to ponder.
'A woman can be proud and stiff
When on love intent;
But Love has pitched his mansion in
The place of excrement;
For nothing can be sole or whole
That has not been rent.'
--William Butler Yeats
... Endabutte?
I sent ya a coozie. Should arrive to Woodville in a couple days. Nice pics. Think I might make it to Virginny in august afterall. LAtes
Beautiful photos Jesse, it was not from this 4th of July? But I think an update would be appreciated. xo
How about an update?
UPDATE
Even I managed an update in my present state of health. Surley you can give some sign of intelligent life out there!?
Then again,.....................
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