The Mountain Home Series: Blue Ridge. Can Mountains Call, and humans hear their keening? Can Earth establish kinship, and Blood be drawn like a magnet to a landscape limned in green? And what of cool streams, and clear skies? Will they become an addiction, if we look at them long enough, and with enough desire. Is childish curiosity, and a fascination with trees, really a form of worship put in place by Old Growth Forests while the World was worrying itself into existence. I Wonder - What is really rooted below the Forest floor - There! Down deep in the leaf mold. Surely, stuff that draws the soul out like a poultice does a boil. Should I lance me, then? Call my memories out and see this capricious string connection that I seem to want to cut, but can’t. Some days, I know I’d like to leave these Green dreams where they surfaced, like lily pads left flat on a still pond - Be done with them, once and for all - But other days, this same me is deeply drawn to Blue Ridges - Sick for the Home I wanted, even though I wondered if it ever wanted me. Oh yes - I hear the Call. See the secret Blue view - Mountain Home. I see it, want to heed it, maybe Need it. I want my Freedom... Maybe not. Because to leave it, would make me leave my Self.... Free? I think that I will never Will myself to be.
