Wednesday, August 10, 2005
Grace
We met an old white-haired gentleman Monday at the side of the road under the Buckeye trees, across from the trailhead where we hike in the pines with our year-and-a-half-old poodle Cosmo. I could tell right off he was a kind person by his smile and was glad when he offered his hand in introduction. Terry proceeded to compliment Marianne on her becoming fleece ear band, and remarked on how rarely he encounters anyone with my name.
Given he was in his pajamas and leaning on his cane, I suspect he doesn't get out a lot--we'd never seen him before--and he informed us he'd lived there for fifty years, in the house hidden behind the toppled ancient oak.
Hurried along by the cold ocean fog pouring up Tennessee Valley, and by an impatient Cosmo we were thankful hadn't accidentally knocked Terry over, we continued on our way, but not before wondering if Terry had just come out to get his mail, or maybe some fresh air, and whether he'd been a cattle rancher like the other old-timers down the road in what is now a national recreation area with horse stables.
Passing by the ruins of a former homestead with apple trees and rose bushes along the trail, I think about how different the world was when I was born, and how gracefully our new friend and his wild companions of his valley have faded into the background of this landscape.
Given he was in his pajamas and leaning on his cane, I suspect he doesn't get out a lot--we'd never seen him before--and he informed us he'd lived there for fifty years, in the house hidden behind the toppled ancient oak.
Hurried along by the cold ocean fog pouring up Tennessee Valley, and by an impatient Cosmo we were thankful hadn't accidentally knocked Terry over, we continued on our way, but not before wondering if Terry had just come out to get his mail, or maybe some fresh air, and whether he'd been a cattle rancher like the other old-timers down the road in what is now a national recreation area with horse stables.
Passing by the ruins of a former homestead with apple trees and rose bushes along the trail, I think about how different the world was when I was born, and how gracefully our new friend and his wild companions of his valley have faded into the background of this landscape.
