Finally! a Daily Prompt geared to something close to my heart!
I posted the other day about being physically, emotionally and spiritually connected to the Appalachian Mountains where I live.
This one is about just one mountain in particular. So, me bein’ the awesome hillbilly that I am, I will happily oblige.
My Mountain has no name, other than being a part of the awesome Appalachian Mountains. It isn’t as grand in size and scope as other mountains in the chain, but it is my mountain.
Some folks call it a hill, but it is no hill. It is much bigger than any hill, it is my mountain. No, I don’t physically own it, but I do spiritually and emotionally own it and it, in many ways, owns me.
Unfortunately, I do not have a picture of my mountain, the trees behind my house are too full to get anything but the very top of it and I can not get far enough away from it to get a really good picture.
The best I can do is get a Google Earth picture, which in no way does my mountain justice, but does give you some idea of it.
My mountain tops out at 2,361 feet and I have been on every inch of it. It’s not the tallest mountain around me, but it is the one I have spent the most time on.
In fact, you could say that I grew up on this mountain, for it is where my friends and I spent the most of our play time, in all weather. I’ve been on it when it was 90 degrees and I’ve been on it when there was 10 inches of snow on it.
There have been many games of war on it, sticks for guns and trees, holes, dips, and rocks were our cover from the enemy.
There is a very old “Donkey Mine” near the base. It is all caved in except for one hole where the coolest air would constantly flow from. On the hot days, after much play time, we would go to the mine and sit around it, letting nature’s air conditioner cool us off before we were off and gone again.
When we got thirsty we went to a natural spring with the sweetest, best tasting water that would rival any “Spring Bottled Water”. We didn’t worry about gettin’ sick or anything by drinking it like most folks would do today.
Sometimes my mountain would teach us hard lessons. Lessons like, don’t jump from a rock that is too high or climb out on a limb that didn’t look very sturdy, but you did anyway. It taught me to watch where I was going and pay attention to what was around me at all times.
It educated me on being able to identify different bugs, insects, snakes, trees and bushes. It taught me the beginnings of how to live off the land if I needed to, how to look for eatable berries, wildlife, and shelter.
There is a special place on the back side of my mountain, we called it, “The Pines.” It’s a huge grove of nothing but pine trees with a path running through them and connects to the next mountain over.
If you’ve never been in a grove of pine trees, you really need to find one and experience it.
The path basically runs from the lower end of my mountain all the way through the pines and up the next mountain. Our favorite thing to do was ride the path on our bicycles and at the junction where the path began going up the next mountain, we would see who could get the farthest up the other side.
I have so many memories that were born on that mountain, so many that I could probably write a good sized book.
But, those memories will stay with me until I write them here, to share with all of you. As it is, my mountain is waiting for me to once again walk it’s ground, touch it’s trees, drink from it’s spring, and sit by its natural air conditioner.
Maybe one day I’ll visit my mountain again, but until then it sits, patiently waiting for the sound of make-believe machine guns, laughter, and arguments to once again float through it’s trees and allow it to come alive once again.