Of Mountains and Barbarians

My Love Affair with Hills

My Beautiful Sara,

Beware the Mountain People, for they are barbarians! I gave this warning a long while back. But your stubbornness won in the end and here we are. I am however still a mountain person and maybe a little barbaric. And you are still as beautiful as the first day I cast my eyes upon you.

I love the mountains. I was born there. The lovely curves of the earth as the land beneath slowly contours and bends. Some are born of slow, calm process and others are born violently, red lava spewed from the bowels of mother earth herself. And over time, they cool and form a home for vegetation first. The rich soils feeding the trees who call the hillsides and mountainsides home. And with trees come the animals, of all kinds. From ground crawlers to mighty elephants. The hills are the homes of the forests and the forests are homes of wildlife.

And I am part of that wildlife. Stow your chuckle and slow your eye-roll, love. You see, we mountain people are different. When the sun rises, we see it first, it’s rays striking the hillsides in magnificent yellow splendor, it’s rays illuminating the wondrous green we call home. We see the beauty in such things. When we walk, it is not as the crow flies but up and down Her curves. Every hill ahead covering a mystery that s only presented when you reach the top and see the view. And what a wonderful view. The world below displayed in all its beauty. The roads and paths and homes, a harmony of geography. There is nothing quite like it. It’s as close to the sky you get. And for a long time, it was the closest to flying that man ever got.

We’re hopeless romantics, you see, we mountain people. We see the beauty in nature’s poetry. We live closest to her. From her trees to her animals. I’ve seen what a leopard can do to cattle in a night. I’ve witnessed the glowing eyes darting in the dark forest. I’ve stared at a family of elephants slowly making their way across the great valley. I’ve listened to a thunderous waterfall, it’s echo muted by trees. I’ve drunk from springs so fresh with their water just from the ground. I’ve danced in the heavy storms that fill the night and felt the wonderful dew on the grass in the morning. I’ve watched rivers flood and cast their fury on unsuspecting shores.

I’ve seen Mother Nature’s fury, but I’ve also seen her beauty.

But most importantly, I’ve seen people.

And they-that-live-on-the-hills are a hardy people. People who live with the land and off it. Steep hills make for steep climbs and the plains are no place for people like that. It’s written into the soles of their feet. It is marked in their palms. It is hinted at in their eyes. And as I’ve moved to the plains I begin the miss it all.

The allure of it still calls to me. I am of the hills and I hear that song. That sweet syren’s call. I see hills in the distance and I long to set my feet upon them. Traverse them all in one climb. Explore the world beyond and unlock the mystery they so unwittingly hide. The mountains beckon to the explorer in me and how can I not answer. I am of the mountains. And as much as I know them, somewhere deep within, I feel that they know me.

As you know me. Intimately. To my very core. I will hold your hand and show you these wonders one day. Traverse the unknown and fill your eyes with wonder. For I see the explorer in you too. I know the barbarian inside, for I am a barbarian too.

Yours, Always,

Lawrence

#Hills #Love #Mountains #Travel