The day I blogged tubular ("Tubular," December 21, 2009) I neglected the orange, yellow, green and black tubes we retrieve from the barn loft to float down the James River. Last night, Adam and a friend found a different use for those toys. For pictures, click on Karen's blog, Holes in My Jeans, in the right margin of my blog, and go to "Sledding in the new year" (January 2, 2010).
The James River Face rises three thousand feet above the pasture in those pictures. I read recently that many millions of years ago these mountains were taller than Mt. Everest is today. At the south end of our valley, Thunder Ridge guards our cabin, Arrowhead Lodge. Today Thunder Ridge is a mystery I have an urge to explore.
It's too cold for such a long walk and the ice-crusted snow might toss me into a hospital (or morgue). When the snow melts, I'd like to head up there with a friend to feast on overlooks. The only friend willing to join me, unless I import one from somewhere else (Victor, Rick, are you there?), is my cellphone. (I hear fake violins playing.)
If I were to make a new year's resolution, it would have something to do with these mountains and woods. In them, I can run 20 miles without being passed by a car or truck and, as I go, deadlines and commitments fade into nothingness or I laugh at the stress-less-ness of my life compared to what used to be. But I don't have to walk or run 20 miles for this. I could step onto our porch or patio, settle into a hammock or lawnchair and watch the mountains fret and the forest mend.
"Your garden would beckon," says Virginia. "You couldn't simply sit."
Could I prove her wrong?
2 months ago