The Mountain

“Keep climbing,” they said, not saying why.
“Don’t turn back, you have to try.”
So onward I trudged, though the path was steep,
without looking back at my valley deep.

I was born in the valley,
where it smelt of spring, and new-mown hay, and growing things.
In the valley, where the robin sings,
and every Sunday the church bell rings
sharp at seven:
where they talked of Heaven
     not hell.

I remember the school, and the dusty road
where I’d run to help father carry his load
of greens from the garden, or fish from the sea.
He seemed to stand taller when smiling at me:
and the smile never faded.

The days were long,
but short as the stay
of a summer circus,
or a rainy day
in grandmother’s attic.

Then I watched the travellers, and saw them walk,
and not all passed, for some would talk.
And they spoke at length of the mountain high,
and of golden temples that reached the sky.
And I heard
and spoke not a word.
      But thought.

Then joined them in their weary climb
and pilgrimage to heights sublime.
But our breath grew short as we reached a plateau
in a land of mist, where bitter winds blow.
I could see no more of the valley below.

“Upward,” they cried, and surged ahead.
They pushed those weaker.  They walked on the dead, 
     not seeing.
And I ran in terror from the crowd, 
and heard mad voices calling loud.
But the sun had come from behind its cloud,
and I saw the valley, with fields fresh ploughed,
     and ran faster.

I mended my nets and sharpened my hoe,
and forgot the mountain covered with snow:
and I watch the travellers passing by.
And once in a while, at night, I cry

     and wonder.

Pre-Spring Rant Number One

Perfect sunny Sunday, with temperature just above 10C, so Ranger and I walked down Dolby Hill Road (it used to be Dobie Hill, but the sign writers - surprise, surprise - misspelled it) to #7 Highway, then up to the Post Office, then back to West Jeddore Road and home.

What is wrong with people? The side roads were not too bad, but the side of the highway was littered with a sea of jetsam from the passing cars. A small sample of what we saw along the kilometre and a half of highway that we travelled (and, yes, I counted!):
3 26oz rum bottles,
1 26oz vodka bottle,
3 26oz miscellaneous alcohol bottles,
5 12oz liquor bottles,
8 beer cans,
3 beer bottles,
6 soft drink cans,
12 Tim Horton coffee cups,
16 other throwaway cups,
6 styrofoam fast food containers,
3 car oil plastic bottles,
4 car additive plastic bottles,
2 used condoms,
3 roaches,
over one hundred cigarette butts,
too many plastic bags of various sorts to count,
several small plastic bags full of garbage,
and a huge assortment of stuff that I was unable to recognise.

I really do not believe that this is sustainable. As the population grows, our average IQ seems to shrink, and with it our sense of environmental responsibility. What are the people who throw this stuff out of their cars thinking? First of all, the beer cans and alcohol bottles, together with the roaches, would indicate that a lot of people are driving impaired, and then there are the condoms! It would seem to me that, if you are going to use a condom in a car, you would at least pull off the road, and stop the car, and not just use it while driving. It is just wrong to multitask while having sex! Focus.

Consume, consume, consume, and then, of course, just throw it away. Who cares, right?

Sigh.

Oh, despite all of the above, Ranger and I had a good walk, and felt better for it, at least physically. Mentally? Well perhaps that's another rant.