Round Two

"If you are in the mountains alone for some time--many days at minimum, and it helps if you are fasting--the forest grows tired of its wariness toward you.














It resumes its inner life and allows you to see it. Near dusk, the faces in tree bark cease hiding and stare out at you, the welcoming ones and also the malevolent, open in their curiosity.














In your camp at night, you are able to pick out a distinct word now and then from the muddled voices in creek water, sometimes an entire sentence of deep import.














The ghosts of animals reveal themselves to you without prejudice toward your humanity.














You see them receding before you as you walk the trail, their shapes beautiful and sad." Charles Frazier Thirteen Moons














Another round of snow approaches, cold enough that it is not likely to melt with any velocity. My first fearful test drive on snow bordered roads haunted by the specter of black ice went well today, but I am prepared to stay put. The long gravel drive is not plowed unless I do it by hand with a regular flat shovel.

I have not told you the tale yet of what really lies under the hearth, at the ruins of Betsy's lone small cabin, high on top of a distant mountain.