Cedar Mountain
I am your mountain.
I am the mountain of your childhood. I am innocence personified. I am what you see from your bedroom window when you wake up on a Saturday morning. The early morning mist covers your window like a stage curtain, as you patiently wait for the open note's sunrise serenade, signaling that the performance is about to begin.
As the sun rises, the curtain slowly opens to reveal a breathtaking view. A canopy of trees, as far as the eye can see, is emblazoned by the morning light. Their emerald-colored leaves wave in the gentle breeze, beckoning you to come visit Mother Nature.
An hour later, you're standing at the entrance with your father. You can hear the gentle rustling of the branches, as if they're saying, "Welcome, my friends, so glad you could join us on this beautiful spring day!"
Taking your father's hand, you step onto a newly made trail and begin your hike. Up ahead, rabbits, squirrels and even birds seem to make their way leisurely across the path. When they catch sight of you and your dad, though, they pause, as if to say, "Welcome, my good friends, to our woods. Please enjoy your visit."
Further up the trail, you catch the distant scent of dozens upon dozens of wildflowers as a cool breeze blows down the mountainside. You gradually become one with the mountain as you continue on your hike. Spying a small clearing up ahead, you sprint to a log and sit down to rest. Turning back to call out to your father, you're immediately blinded by the morning sun.
I am your mountain.
I am the mountain of your teenage years. Not quite as innocent as before, I still hold the secrets that you shared with me as a child. Your first girlfriend comes jogging up to the clearing from out of the sun and sits next to you on the log. Holding hands, the two of you listen to the birds collectively singing the highest praises of the mountain before taking off in flight. The sky is filled with a spectacular palette of vibrant hues: shades of reds, blues, greens, and yellows.
Spiritually refreshed, you continue on your pleasant hike through the woods, observing and inhaling the vibrant smells of nature. Cresting a small hill, you suddenly arrive at a small valley nestled in the heart of the mountain. Everywhere you look wildflowers and mountain laurel greet you. Your girlfriend races off to the right to pick wildflowers as you go to the left to pick mountain laurel.
Eventually your paths intersect and you gently collide and fall to the ground laughing. A few moments later, the laughter subsides and you begin making headbands from the flowers. Soon you are wearing each other's creations.
Lying on the ground, you watch in utter amazement as small woodland creatures come to investigate the two of you. Rabbits and squirrels carefully hop up to you and jump on your bodies. They begin to twirl and dance, as if to say, "Welcome to the valley, please enjoy yourselves."
Eventually the rabbits and squirrels end their spontaneous dance and take flight in different directions, leaving you quite alone with your girl. She rolls over on top of you and begins to put wildflowers in your hair. You smile and stroke her face until the hot sun and gentle breeze act like a soothing lullaby and soon the two of you are sound asleep.
I am your mountain.
I am the mountain of your adult years. I have experienced only happiness as you grew up in my warm embrace. I am wiser but still carefree and as always, I hold the secrets that you've shared with me in the preceding years.
The voice of a young child awakens you from your afternoon nap. It's still very sunny but now there is a just a hint of chill in the air on this autumn day. Your daughter holds up a bouquet of mountain laurel and says, "Daddy, do you like the flowers that I picked for you?"
"Of course I do, they're very lovely. But I think it's time for us to be heading for home."
Taking her hand, you start back through the valley. As you walk along, you can see that the trees on the edge of the valley are starting to change colors, like God decided to do a little bit of painting today. Wonderful shades of red, yellow and orange shine in a blaze of glory on the trees, as if to say, "See what my Mother and Father have done for you today? We are beauty personified. Please continue to enjoy your journey."
At the edge of the valley, where the wildflowers meet the mighty maples, you and your daughter are greeted by the pleasant sound of birds singing. Robins, orioles, cardinals, and blue jays serenade you in a symphony of sound that cleanses the spirit and stirs the soul.
Continuing through the trees, the symphony seems to gain strength as you make your way to a very small rest area on the trail. By the time you arrive, the symphony has reached maximum crescendo, as if to say, "We are one in melodious harmony with the mountain, please continue to enjoy the music."
Sitting on a log in the rest area, your spirits start to take flight as the music gently soothes and caresses your souls. By the time the symphony reaches its breathtaking conclusion, you and your daughter are sound asleep.
I am your mountain.
I am the mountain of your advanced years. The branches of my trees may be bare, but they still protect and store all of the hopes, secrets and dreams of your lifetime.
You feel a tug on your sleeve and hear a small voice say, "Grandpa, can we make a snowman here?"
Opening your eyes, you see to your delight that Mother Nature has draped a soft blanket of snow over the pines like a warm winter scarf. Answering your granddaughter, you say, "Not here, Sunshine. Let's hike back down to the entrance and make it there. It will be magical."
Taking her hand, you carefully make your way down the familiar, well-worn path. Picking your way through the brush, the pine trees start to drop snow off of their branches, as if they're waving goodbye to you. Getting misty-eyed, you start to feel a little sad about leaving, when suddenly a warm and gentle feeling comes over you. Looking up, you see a snow-white falcon standing like a sentry on a bare branch near the entrance.
Heartened by this warm gesture of the mountain, you pick up your granddaughter and place her on your shoulders. With a bounce in your step, you carefully make your way down the trail, while your granddaughter picks icicles off the branches whenever she passes near a tree.
A few minutes later you're at the mountain entrance. You gently lower her to the ground and say, "Okay, sweetie, we'll start building our snowman right here. I'll start with the bottom and you do the middle."
While you're rolling the bottom portion of the snowman, a loud squawk pierces the cold afternoon air. Looking up, you see the same snow-white falcon sitting on a shrub, intently watching your handiwork. Smiling, you wave hello and continue building your snowman.
Minutes pass and now you're helping your granddaughter put on the middle portion of the snowman. She then asks, "Grandpa, can I make the head?"
"Of course you can. Just let me know when you're finished, so I can help you put it on top."
She calls you over a few minutes later and you lift her up so she can place the head on top. Stepping back, the two of you admire your creation.
Once again, you hear the falcon squawk very loudly. Looking up, you're surprised to see that hundreds of other birds and assorted woodland creatures have joined him and are watching the two of you as well. You wave to them and the falcon returns your wave with a nod of his head before taking flight towards the mountain interior. The other birds and woodland creatures also depart, but not before a few dozen race up and leave various bits of leaves, acorns, and pine needles on your snowman.
After they have all gone, you again marvel at Mother Nature's handiwork in helping you complete the snowman. Placing your granddaughter back on your shoulders, you say to her as you're walking back to the house, "See, sweetie? The mountain is truly a magical place. Just wait until springtime, you will be amazed."
I am your mountain.
Although it's now time for me to take my long winter nap, come springtime I will be reborn in your granddaughter's eyes as pure innocence. I will be that wonderful live stage show for her to dream about and enjoy, just like I was for you many decades ago.
