"Nobody can write a new fairy tale ; you can only mix up and dress up the old, old stories, and put the characters in new dresses."

 -- Andrew Lang  

Signs

Do you remember the day I gave you the bouquet?
Of yellow roses blushing pink at the tips of their petals
And deep pink-crimson ones
Arranged to match the pattern on the antique china vase in which they were set

Yellow roses turning pink
mean friendship turning to love
I didn't know that at the time
But it was right

Nor did I know
that they were your favorite rose
But that, too, was right

I didn't know, still, which one you meant
So I gave you another one of each
another time
And asked which was your favorite
You pointed to the yellow and pink one
with your little finger
and a little tremble in your hand

We sat together that day at the ice cream parlour
you fidgeted and fussed, and put on the scarf I'd complimented before
then took it off
then put it back on again
and arranged it to look pretty
You glanced at me, and then away
and then at me, and then away

Did you ever realize
that just after you met me
was when you caught the bouquet at your cousin's wedding?
The picture is gone now, but I still remember the proud, shy smile
Half-playful
But half pleased and wanting to believe that it truly did mean something
And the caption: "High time!"

Do you remember the last day we were friends?
The day I gave you the basket full of rasperries
that I'd picked myself
washed, and sorted
dried, then carefully arranged in layers
with wax paper and tissue paper in brilliant aquamarine blue
to match your eyes
and a ribbon of the same color wrapped around the handle
and tied in a bow

Do you remember, as you left the party that day
after coming to say goodbye to me on the front porch
where I sat, smoking my pipe
the way you looked at me
over your shoulder
as you walked away?

Still

I was thinking this morning
that it's time to move on.

I still love you.
I always will.
I'll never love anyone
Like I've loved you.

But I could find someone
to love with a different kind of love.

But then I'm out
I'm surrounded by beautiful young women
And all I can do is imagine you
Walking up to me
Saying Hello
Like you did on that cold Midwinter evening in Staunton.

"Hi, Mike."
I close my eyes.
I hear your voice.
I see your smile.

"Hi, Mike."
I've never particularly cared for my own name.
But I like it when you say it.

I close my eyes.
I hear your voice.
I see your smile
Your blush.
I feel the warmth of your presence
The glow of your femininity.
I sigh.
I stand and leave.

"Do not be afraid, for she was destined for you from eternity. You will save her, and she will accompany you."

 -- Tobit 6:18

Und morgen wird die Sonne wieder scheinen

The Lord's Prayer sung in Aramaic

Aside from the power and beauty of the music, there's something particularly touching about this, because it's the language in which Jesus originally spoke the prayer to his disciples.

The Fruit of my Labors

Remember all that digging up rocks and building of planters I did last summer? Well here's my reward.

The Temptations - Just my Imagination

"But at night-time, when the house was empty, and there was nothing to do...I'd always think of Jenny."

Spring!

Arise, my love, my beautiful one,

and come away,

for behold, the winter is past;

the rain is over and gone.

The flowers appear on the earth,

the time of singing has come,

and the voice of the dove

is heard in our land.

-- Song of Solomon 2:10-12

Après un Rêve

Dans un sommeil que charmait ton image

Je rêvais le bonheur, ardent mirage,

Tes yeux étaient plus doux, ta voix pure et sonore,

Tu rayonnais comme un ciel éclairé par l'aurore;

Tu m'appelais et je quittais la terre

Pour m'enfuir avec toi vers la lumière,

Les cieux pour nous entr'ouvraient leurs nues,

Splendeurs inconnues, lueurs divines entrevues,

Hélas! Hélas! triste réveil des songes

Je t'appelle, ô nuit, rends-moi tes mensonges,

Reviens, reviens radieuse,

Reviens ô nuit mystérieuse!

The Parting Glass

I was thinking about how it would be to take a trip to Ireland and, among other things, visit the place where they craft my pipes (Peterson of Dublin) and the place where they distill my whiskey (Tullamore, County Offaly), and I came across this. I know it's basically just an extended commercial, but still, it's nice. I'd also love to do some "rambling," that is, the gentler British Isles version of hiking, while I'm there.

Thigpen's Wedding

"He wrote your name on my heart in flame, it's a wound I can't erase."

Yes. Precisely.

"I do not myself believe in misfortune; anything to which men give the name is merely the shadow-side of a good." -- George MacDonald

I've been given another reason to do this as a section hike rather than trying to finish the whole thing this year: I have another grandchild due this August. This is the daughter who has had two previous miscarriages, so I think I should really be there.

Also, please pray for the health of mother and child.

"A true Christian life is a life not focused on what others do wrong; a true Christian life is a life that, despite the heresy, hypocrisy, and spiritual blindness surrounding us, focuses quietly on living in chastity, modesty, and humility; it’s a life of constant prayer and gratitude, a life purged of lust and hate, a life without competition, and a life detached from the world and all its sins. And sadly it’s a life that few Christians today have any interest in seeking."

-- Raymond Lloyd Richmond

Considerations

I did my first 12-mile day yesterday. My knee has been doing quite well so far, but yesterday it protested a bit, which means that probably 10 miles a day is going to be my maximum average sustained speed. That's consistent with last time, when it was also after I started to push beyond 12 that the knee really began to give me problems.

Which raises some considerations. Plan A was always to do this as a single through-hike, and that's what I'd still like to do. But there's a math problem: I have 2,053 miles left to go. Taking a single day off each week, which is a necessity for me, I will average 60 miles per week. Assuming that nothing else went wrong (unlikely) and skipping my planned extended break at home, that would still put me at Mt. Katahdin on October 24th--too late.

Also, there's another issue that I was hoping to avoid by starting so early, but not so successfully. There are already a LOT of people on the trail. I've had a couple of nights with 8-12 people at a shelter, and the season hasn't even really started yet. Once the dreaded "bubble" comes along, I'm told that there will be 30 or 40 clustered around a shelter built for 6, trash everywhere, privies destroyed, human waste and dirty t.p. on the side of the trail, and a general spring break atmosphere among the college kids who are out here. Not what I came out to experience.

So I may have to turn this into a section hike, and finish it next year or maybe even the year after. I'm going to wait until I get to Damascus, Va and see how my pace, my knee, and the crowds are doing before I decide. That's still 332 miles away, so by then I should know for sure. At that point I'll decide either to finish the whole thing this year, continue to my house and finish next year, or stop there and divide it into multiple sections, say doing just Virginia next year.

I met a couple on the trail yesterday, very serendipitously, in light of the post I'd made the day before, and we got to talking about the rose and my reasons for walking, and they shared some of their story with me.

He was my age and she was 34 and breathtakingly beautiful. They've been married for ten years and are still completely in love. You know how sometimes you see a woman with her husband and it's just all over her face that she is happy, and loved, and in love? I hope I don't get him in trouble by sharing this, but he told me that the night before, they were in their tent, and she said that there was no one on earth that she'd rather be camped out on top of a mountain with.

Such a lovely story. It's so good to see true love once in a while, to renew your faith.