Tuesday, December 26, 2006
I WISH FOR YOU...LET'S SEE.
We are awash in The Holidays.
I want to wish for you something nice, yet I feel most of the traditional expressions of good cheer have been amply covered in salutation, sermon and song.
So bear with me while I make up my own list,
This coming year, 2007, I wish for you the following:
Eyes that see more of the natural world. More fish. More game. More beauty.
As winter progresses, may you find time to see snow clouds scudding in from Bays Mountain.
Wood ducks in brilliant color on the Holston River.
The bright eyes of a fox peering at you from a sedge field in Hawkins County.
May a flock of wild turkeys – shimmering bronze and black in the winter sun – cross your path along the many river bottoms in the area.
And may a wandering bear from the high country of Virginia or North Carolina show himself just long enough to give you that tightness in the throat that only a bear can generate.
May your ears find a way to tune out the cacophony of noise from construction and interstate traffic. May your hearing be more attuned to the things our grandparents heard – the drumming of a grouse, the high-pitched cry of a red-tailed hawk circling in the sky, the scream of a bobcat in a mountain hollow just after dusk.
I wish for you in the coming year a certain awareness, an understanding, if you will, of that delicate balance of nature which promises that if you pave, build and "progress" past a certain point, something important is gone forever.
I hope you’ll comprehend that more people, more shopping malls and more pavement means that we – and our children – will be reduced to watching "nature" on TV.
I hope that you’ll be able to spend enough time outdoors this coming year – away from the artificial climate of buildings and cars -- to remember that winters are naturally cold, summers naturally hot, and that spring and fall do crazy things to the senses, such as making you glad you’re alive.
I wish for you a flight of Canada geese returning north in the spring sky.
An unexpected handful of raspberries in the summer sun.
And a pocketful of chinquapins next September.
May you enjoy limits of bass and grouse. Days camped in a forest with someone you love. The aroma of wood smoke by a fireplace when the guns and fishing gear have been stashed away.
This is the best and truest way I know to share a preview into the New Year.
And I confess.
When I wish these things for you, I am also reminded that these are the things I wish most for myself.
END
I want to wish for you something nice, yet I feel most of the traditional expressions of good cheer have been amply covered in salutation, sermon and song.
So bear with me while I make up my own list,
This coming year, 2007, I wish for you the following:
Eyes that see more of the natural world. More fish. More game. More beauty.
As winter progresses, may you find time to see snow clouds scudding in from Bays Mountain.
Wood ducks in brilliant color on the Holston River.
The bright eyes of a fox peering at you from a sedge field in Hawkins County.
May a flock of wild turkeys – shimmering bronze and black in the winter sun – cross your path along the many river bottoms in the area.
And may a wandering bear from the high country of Virginia or North Carolina show himself just long enough to give you that tightness in the throat that only a bear can generate.
May your ears find a way to tune out the cacophony of noise from construction and interstate traffic. May your hearing be more attuned to the things our grandparents heard – the drumming of a grouse, the high-pitched cry of a red-tailed hawk circling in the sky, the scream of a bobcat in a mountain hollow just after dusk.
I wish for you in the coming year a certain awareness, an understanding, if you will, of that delicate balance of nature which promises that if you pave, build and "progress" past a certain point, something important is gone forever.
I hope you’ll comprehend that more people, more shopping malls and more pavement means that we – and our children – will be reduced to watching "nature" on TV.
I hope that you’ll be able to spend enough time outdoors this coming year – away from the artificial climate of buildings and cars -- to remember that winters are naturally cold, summers naturally hot, and that spring and fall do crazy things to the senses, such as making you glad you’re alive.
I wish for you a flight of Canada geese returning north in the spring sky.
An unexpected handful of raspberries in the summer sun.
And a pocketful of chinquapins next September.
May you enjoy limits of bass and grouse. Days camped in a forest with someone you love. The aroma of wood smoke by a fireplace when the guns and fishing gear have been stashed away.
This is the best and truest way I know to share a preview into the New Year.
And I confess.
When I wish these things for you, I am also reminded that these are the things I wish most for myself.
END
