We look over and down on Appalachian Mountain Country from the summit for a 360 degree panoramic view of these ever-loving valleys and everlasting hills.
Streams wind around the foothills sparkling like chains of bright and beautiful jewelry hugging the neck and shoulders of a lovely lady.
Early morning fog nestles in the nooks and crannies of the valleys forming little fluffy clumps; like flocks of sheep reluctant to leave their protective pens of night for the day.
The specialness of mountain country is the deep, rich green deciduous tree-cover that lays like a colossal comfort blanket over the undulating ridges and valleys. The slopes are polka dotted with small splotches of subdued yellows and reds as a prelude to their explosion into the flaming foliage of early October.
Plumes of bracken fern
have already taken on in rich browns, yellows and golds with chlorophyll green mingling in
and out in a multitude of combinations. We have only to look along the wetlands to see
these glorious ferns glowing with color in the brilliant September sunshine.
The song of Autumn gently floats along touching the ferns, mosses, grasses, vines and the leaves of Autumn flowers. Browns, reds, yellows and golds of seed and blade are a special part of the scene.
The magic of this moment is the soft and quiet strains of a string symphony. The sound of flute music rises into the air with every step we place and with every breath we take.
The moments are more than sight and sound. They are felt deep inside the heart. It is the spiritual dimension where it connects one with all others and all places and all times. It is of all things bright and beautiful in the sky and on the Earth. It is heaven that is around and among and in, all we creatures great and small.
Copyright © 1988, 1999 Barbara A. Smith and John G. Hipps. All rights reserved.
This essay was first published September 21, 1988 in the Free-Press Courier, Westfield, Pennsylvania.