Now I am home, though still a little tired and saturated with images and thoughts of the last minute trip. Though we flew to North Carolina, a few days later we had a drive to make. The car trip to Michigan from North Carolina was 14 hours last Friday. The next day was spent with family and attending the memorial service for my sister-in-law. Then the third day: back another 14 hours on many roads and five states from N.Carolina to Virginia, W. Virginia, Ohio, MI., then reversed for return. I often passed the time–I read as well–staring out the window as my husband drove. (I’d have been happy to drive but he was caught “in the zone”, and refused my help. Next time it shall be different; he was too tired to endure this stretch of time behind the wheel. But when he makes his mind up…)
It recalled the road trips I’d taken with my parents and siblings as a child around our country, how excited I felt about each place we went. I gawked at the world, happy even though squashed between four siblings in the back seat. Each town was a story even then, every landscape a magnetic space. Everything crackling alive. And it still is, amid the dying…
Marc and I talked on the way there with some banter; we knew it would not be easy the next day. But we fell silent often, thinking of this second loss in two months. And our old lives in Michigan (several decades ago) and those places to which one cannot ever really return for long, not once grown up and gone. And yet those places and times cling like a tenacious aura of the Past, sometimes bright, sometimes dark.
Seeking relief, I filled myself up with natural scenarios beyond the window, sometimes letting out the dry chilled air-conditioned air and letting into the car little gusts that dripped with humidity and was deeply hot: upper-90 degrees F.hot. It smelled good to me, as if rain that has been held back so long it has to sneak in, delicious-green and heady. And heavy.
I was struck, as I always am when traveling these areas, by the endless rise and fall of deciduous trees (far fewer conifers there) that took over foothills and parts of the Appalachian Mountains. Such abundance! The land rose up, split into graceful mounds, spread out in valleys and turned over this way and that, revealing changing light dabbed that daubed the landscape. I watched and snapped pictures, mesmerized. The clouds were astonishing, utterly magical they are from place to place. We also got through a sudden, bombastic thunderstorm.
So this is what I have today: pictures of daring cloud formations, rolling hills amid such old mountains and fecund, open farmland (with “corn at least knee-high by 4th of July”, as they say). A few bugs may be smearing windows. Not the best pictures, I am sure. They are more half-dreaming images of my perceptions along the way. The land and sky were witness to my sorrows and wonderment. And I, a willing audience for their dramatic displays. This life. This earth. The curious existences everyone does lead. And ever-reluctant me, traveling here and there, anyway– and I’m not even done yet for July, two more trips to go!
If you want a variety of sustenance, travel a little bit, or even take a decent walk. And if you want to see where I went, come along…
10 thoughts on “Friday’s Passing Fancy/Photos: Hail the Clouds and Their Country”
Emotional and beautiful both the writing and the photos.
Ah, it was an emotional trip, for sure, and I thank you for finding value there.
that thunderstorm photo was a beautifully captured moment, loved your narration of a road trip, everything was felt as well as seen.
My, all that sounds lovely and it is much appreciated, Singledust. Thanks for reading and commenting.
So interesting but sad for your reason to travel
Thank you for the good words, dianaed14. It was, at that, and also lovely at times.
Born and raised in Nashville, we always thought of East Tennessee as a backwards country, and of course James Dickey’s novel, “Deliverance,” delivered the knock-out punch. But as your well wrought essay and lovely pictures show, the country endures. Whatever the season, Appalachia always makes the heart beat faster with its ancient splendor of blue hills and rough farmland. Your description gently pushed me into some soothing distant memories–made my morning more thoughtful, more pleasant.
Thank you so much for posting.
What an interesting place to grow up. We lived in Lexington for 1.5 years and it was another place/time altogether for us, having moved from MI., being Northerners in a town that still hung Confederate flags. (I have written of some of the experiences there in WP…rich pickings. ) Beautiful, exotic-seeming, with a dark tinge sometimes under gracious surfaces… Yes, “endures” seems a right verb, one can feel that.
I am glad you found yourself meandering in pleasant and thought-provoking places as you read. Thanks-as ever- for your comments and appreciation, Paul.
Beautifully written and dramatically photographed
Thank you for you appreciation, Derrick. It was a rather dramatic trip.