Rosy Mound

The trail curves along the forest floor, pouring forth from the mid-section of the dune like the rolled out tapestry of a regal ceremony. The hill just climbed--it carries up, back, to the left high into the sky beyond sight. Green illumines all periphery with ferns and moss flowing through the forest in swimming swarms. Splashes of orange and red tickle gray mushrooms and morels on felled trees giving life even in their rest. This narrow train winds up, up, between two hills and careens along a top’s edge with a smooth, hard sandy path, dipping down like dripping honey creating an easy, momentous pace. Steep slopes encompass either side, along which eager wild flowers await the slightest hint of sun, shining down in little shafts through the tall, elegant, noble trees overhead.

The air is filled with the perfume of late spring’s blossoms. A light breeze caresses your face bringing light kisses, swirling around your head and laughing as it dances through the forest. Blue birds and red cardinals whistle beautiful songs welcoming you with their symphonic psalm.

A clearing opens on a high perch revealing the valley below. Sand and interspersed with pines, brush, and tall grasses, it appears as a mere model from this sublime crest. Look: a jagged spike, long dead and dry, stands like a sentinel in the middle of the plain, its arbor arms still pointing to the heavens. Open hands of this sandy tundra unfold to a grassy knoll, which empties onto a wide beach. The lake is vast, like an ocean. Walk down. Descend! For the mist and haze on the horizon beckon you to sift through the sands of the shore and rest by the gentle, lapping tide. The sun beams down upon your face as you sit against a sturdy, dry log, smooth-formed by waves and time, and come to rest on this beach head--your beach head. How did it get here? Monarch butterflies flit and dance their orange hues, drink nectar from milkweed and flowers and float along the shore. And then there are the sails on the horizon....

The sails...