Appalachian Mountain Country this day is clear and bright. Its sky is cloudless and intensely blue. Its sun; a red-orange light, clear and intensely bright. A long gaze into its celestial depths seems like forever and infinite. Bathing in its warmth is womb-like and totally comforting. A soft breeze caresses the skin ever so gently. The subdued pink of Sugar Maple trees have brightened to a glowing red with a completion that is about to burst like fireworks across the slopes of the mountain ridges.
The mountains are about to be adorned with
the chartreuse trees of willow's weeping and aspen-green gowns. The primary color is
yellow. Coltsfoot and dandelion polka dot the brightening green patchwork of fields and
meadows, pastures and by-ways. They are like cups and flecks of sunshine gold sprinkled
like confetti over the sweet face of mountain country earth. The forest flower is the milk
chocolate brown of last years leaf fall. Its softness is a sweet invitation to lay and
rest, to relax and enjoy for every just a little while. It is a very special view from the
ground to the sky, through mountain laurel's, evergreen, and deciduous tree gray. This
revelation is the precious view of that which is immensely and intensely bright and
beautiful on the face of this, our good Earth.
An exciting part of this wonderful celebration is a mobile rainbow garden whose players consist of Chickadees, Juncos, Warblers and Flycatchers. A merry Hairy Woodpecker pounds out his part like a solo percussionist. High above the treetops a Red-tailed Hawk screeches out with enthusiastic glee. Higher still, over and above it all, a very black Vulture soars far and wide, symbolic of humankind's inhumanity to our Earth home. It is this bird and this day that serve to remind us of our choices; as caretaker over that which we were given dominion, or to continue to spread a cancerous sickness until the Earth (and we along with it) are smothered in the products of our own abuse.
Copyright © 1988-2000 Barbara A. Smith and John G. Hipps. All rights reserved.
This essay was first published April 26, 1989 in the Free-Press Courier, Westfield, Pennsylvania.