Then sings my soul
To me, Saturday mornings and mountain runs are as perfect a combination as Forest Gump's peas and carrots. So it was with delight that I filled my pack and left the house in the filtered early morning light. I was alone but not lonely as I started the long ascent from the valley floor to the mountain top. I knew the route well. But to gain the view I so deeply desired from the mountain ridge, there would be nearly unrecognizable trail to travel. So overgrown and wet from morning dew, the forest itself reached out to grab at my now-soaked self. And yet, a momentary pause offered me a chance to hear the siren's song of the wilderness; leaves rustling, breeze blowing, birds singing, mountain streams gurgling. Then sings my soul. The wrestling match with the flora gave way to the comparative freeway of the Appalachian Trail. Up, up, up I climbed, feeling fast and free. The thin dirt trail offered easy footing, save a few rocks and water breaks. The climb was long, but I didn...