C
Cowboy
Guest
From the ridge top he could see across the river valley to the canyons and meadows far up to the north and west. Some he knew well, but to see them now from this perspective it was much different. The October snow frosted the ledges, but left the trees stand out in bold green. The purest blue sky framed this scene, while the bite in the air promised the end of summer.
He pulled the lace up tight on his boot and tied it in a double knot. Standing up now, he hitched the day pack in its rightful place and found the game trail that weaved among the rocks along the crest of the ridge, and worked his way on up.
Amongst the gnarled and tough old juniper he picked his way. There were places where the wind that bit his cheek now, at times blew so hard that the dirt and rocks flew out from around these tough old stanchions of nature, leaving their roots arched grotesquely up out of the ground. But they twisted their roots deep into the crevices anyway searching for a grip and found it, leaving the trunk and branches to bow in the brutal wind. The passage of time told its story in the way the limbs curled and swept to the leeward side.
There were lessons here to those who would listen. Nature would have these trees be here to some purpose, yet made their existence so harsh and trying. God made him weak and frail when compared to the juniper. Under certain conditions he could not even survive one day here. He could not tolerate the boredom of that existence let alone the elements. He wasn?t like the tree.
He pulled the lace up tight on his boot and tied it in a double knot. Standing up now, he hitched the day pack in its rightful place and found the game trail that weaved among the rocks along the crest of the ridge, and worked his way on up.
Amongst the gnarled and tough old juniper he picked his way. There were places where the wind that bit his cheek now, at times blew so hard that the dirt and rocks flew out from around these tough old stanchions of nature, leaving their roots arched grotesquely up out of the ground. But they twisted their roots deep into the crevices anyway searching for a grip and found it, leaving the trunk and branches to bow in the brutal wind. The passage of time told its story in the way the limbs curled and swept to the leeward side.
There were lessons here to those who would listen. Nature would have these trees be here to some purpose, yet made their existence so harsh and trying. God made him weak and frail when compared to the juniper. Under certain conditions he could not even survive one day here. He could not tolerate the boredom of that existence let alone the elements. He wasn?t like the tree.