It was a long time ago and we had decided to have a picnic. I had the idea that I wanted to have a picnic in a meadow. Meadows were one of my favorite things in life and one of the most beautiful things that I could think of. A wide expanse of land, high in the mountains, nestled between rocky peaks. Surround by tall forests where ancient pines and stands of Aspen lived.
We drove up a two lane highway to Dog Valley. Not sure why it was named Dog Valley, but on the way was a sheer rocky cliff at the side of the road. The cliff was a favorite climb for the local rock climbers. Each time I drove past this spot, memories of a fallen climber would surface. One day, a few years before, a climber fell and died instantly, his body landing harshly against the sharp outcropping of stone. The image of his body draped unnaturally backwards over a jutting section of the cliff. His body was folded as if into a sandwich. His spine most certainly split and fractured in two from the fall. I shook my head and attempted to rid the image from my mind. We passed a reservoir and headed higher into the forest. Finally, we pulled to the side on to a dirt road and headed through the forest. This forest was light and the sun shone through the light growth of pines. After about 20 minutes we pulled into an open space and parked.
As I opened the car door and stepped out among the tall trees, I was immersed in fresh oxygen and the aromas of forest life. Life was clean and vibrant here. The scent of pine and earth commingled with thousands of other scents that only a forest and wildlife can produce. The essentials that sustain life on Earth. We gathered a blanket and our backpacks and set off to hike through the forest. We would hike up the mountain and to a meadow we had located on an old map.
We were both comfortable in the wilderness. We had both grown up camping and knew how to make our way and create landmarks in our minds and on the trail to remember the way. The pine needles crunched beneath my hiking boots as we ascended the gentle slope of the mountainside. As we hiked the pines began to thin and a wide expanse of grasses and wildflowers came into view. We headed into the grasses making our own trail. Bugs and butterflies were abundant, buzzing and darting about the grasses and wild blossoms. Birds swooped in and landed for treasure. They would either perch and stay or fly away again into the vast skies of blue sky country. I looked down at my old hiking boots from Raley’s the local grocery and supply store. Every year before winter they would have a big sale on down coats, heavy socks and boots to help the locals survive the freezing winters in Reno and the towns that surrounded the city. My parents would herd us in there and buy us each long underwear, a down jacket, heavy socks and boots.
My boots were heavy, old and scuffed, but well-loved. They were making the hike on this mountain much easier. Beneath my boots grasses gave way and the soil was peaking through the different varieties of grasses and budding life. The soil was a grayish brown, chunky, uneven and exuded the aromas of mountain life.
We reached the center of the meadow and threw out our blanket, disengaged our backpacks and laid down in the sunshine. I laid on my back and gazed into the endless blue sky. The air was clear and clean and I took deep breaths, filling my lungs with nature and oxygen. The sun warmed my skin. All of my nerve endings seemed to vibrate and come alive, reacting to the living meadow. Life chirped, clicked, scurried and the grasses rustled. The suns rays opened the grasses and blossoms, initiating photosynthesis and creating more chemical reactions than a chemistry lab. I figured we probably wouldn’t last more than an hour or two in the brilliant sunlight. All around were grasses, birds, wildlife, the forests and flowers in all colors of the rainbow and of all shapes and sizes. Colors burst forth and shot towards the endless blue sky. I gazed up into the blue and almost felt as if I were flying, but feeling the strong, sturdy earth against my back reminded me of my true location.
We didn’t speak, we didn’t have to. The world was speaking for us and we could just lie back and enjoy the conversation. Eventually, we broke open the backpacks and pulled out snacks and water. Something small to tide us over until we made it back to the car. I looked around and listened and felt like the luckiest person in the world.
