home on the ridgeRead Now
When I was 15, I attended a boarding school in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia. How I ended up there is a long story, and I won’t bore you with that. But I was attracted to the school largely because its beautiful old building—originally a Queen Anne style wood-shingled resort hotel--was butted up against a mountain. In addition, one of the school’s most renowned features was its equestrian program, which prepared well-heeled young ladies for the pageantry and horsemanship of local fox hunts.
Like most girls my age, I was a horse enthusiast. I had attended summer camps where I learned to ride and care for horses. I had even tried a little “hunt seat equitation,” learning to coax those thousand-pound athletes over a variety of fences. I was tiny, however, and although very little scared me, that did. So, after arriving at boarding school, I quickly realized the riders there were out of my league, in more ways than one.
I was more drawn to the mountains anyway. I signed up for every canoe outing, every hike. I rode my bike over to Staunton. I played a lot of tennis on the school’s courts, partially to soak in the view of the mountain at the edge of campus. I reveled in the heavy snowfalls in the winter.
It was year-round camp, with a healthy dose of academics on the side.
Since then, I have harbored an affinity for mountains that is hard for me to explain. I was born in a city, spent my early years in another East coast city, and came to maturity in a small town in central Kentucky, far from any mighty peaks. But I crave spending time in the mountains. I heave a deep sign of contentment the minute I see the mountains looming as we drive east toward the Appalachians.
In the novel I just completed, I describe how Effie Mae feels as she leaves the looming mountains of Bell County for the first time. To capture her thoughts, I relied on the visceral sadness I experience when we drive home toward the Bluegrass.
While in New England recently, we made a short side trip to Mt. Greylock, the tallest mountain in Massachusetts at nearly 3,500 feet. From its summit, you can see mountain ranges in at least four states. That, indeed, is heaven for me. We had time to hike a rugged loop trail part-way down the mountain and back up, briefly segueing with the Appalachian Trail. I was happy.
I don’t know if you can inherit a love of the outdoors or a near-physical need to be in the woods. But after recently reviewing scores of photos of my dad in the field mapping the trees of our eastern forests, I have to believe it’s possible. How I regret never being able to walk the woods with him, learning a tiny portion of what he knew. How fortunate I am to have this time in my life—that he never did—to leisurely explore the quiet majesty of those mountains, before human indifference threatens their very existence.
After visiting Mt. Greylock, Henry David Thoreau wrote the following (which is engraved in a stone on the mountain’s summit):
"As the light increased
I discovered around me an ocean of mist,
which by chance reached up to exactly the base of the tower,
and shut out every vestige of the earth,
while I was left floating on this fragment
of the wreck of the world."
7/27/2019 01:59:06 pm
I am absolutely certain that one of your dad’s greatest joys would have been spending time with you in his beloved woods.
7/27/2019 03:38:11 pm
Here come the tears again! Thanks, Mac.
7/28/2019 12:59:55 pm
Beautiful !! Sounds like you and Rick had a great trip, I understand you completely, I, too, am the happiest outdoors.
7/31/2019 04:45:40 pm
Hi Sallie. I was your roommate for a while at Fairfax! You may recall we did NOT get along as roommates but ended up our year there on good terms. I've been looking up some names from that time and am glad to have run across your site.There's an all-classes reunion in Waynesboro in October...am thinking of attending, not sure yet.
8/1/2019 09:19:19 am
Gosh, Robin, all my faulty memory can recollect is that you were unhappy enough being my roommate that you finagled a better deal sharing a room with someone else early in the fall. That meant I had that big room all to myself the rest of the year! I had hoped to make the reunion in October, but just this week I received an invitation to participate in a book signing in my dad's hometown that same weekend, and I feel I have to take advantage of that opportunity. My best to you and all the Fairfax girls. (If you'd like to connect further, go to the Murky Press Contact page and send me a message.)
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