July 20, 2002

Worlds Apart I could



Worlds Apart

I could have been standing in just this spot, one hundred years ago, in a land inhabited only by me and the butterflies. It would not have looked much different, except for the asphalt. The quiet beauty of this place was awesome, humbling. Standing on the edge of the road, I took a few pictures as if in a church. I just stood there for a while, daydreaming, the pioneer-owner of the first pair of white man's eyes to ever see this place.

The road (hidden in the trees, passing through the notch in the center of the picture) meanders along an old farm-to-market wagon lane, in and out, hugging the edge of the dissected valleys, following the fall of Goose Creek down the path of least resistance towards a gentler gradient of the Roanoke Valley. This road was built a century ago, for hooves, not tires. There are hairpin turns aplenty. The rugged 'mountain land' on either side is punctuated here and there by picturesque notches, slips of pasture bordered by towering White Pine, and unpretentious farmhouses, few and far between.

After snapping a few images, I meandered along the road a ways, enjoying the silence here for a bit this morning. And then they came: at first a distant hum, then nearer, a rising and falling chorus of bellows and whines, coming quickly closer and closer. Down this cart path, out left of the middle of nowhere, the Miata and Other Small Brightly Colored Convertibles Club of the Roanoke Valley was having a field day. And at once they were past and out of sight, engines whining as they accelerated into each hairpin turn, brilliant blurs, doppler-fading into the distance, oblivious to anything but the pavement centered in their windshields and the G-force of speed.

A drive in the country. A walk in the country. Two different countries.

Posted by fred1st at July 20, 2002 05:41 PM
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