Tranquility

I set out on my adventure after work on Sunday, May 18. I chose as my destination the Missouri State Park at Robertsville. A small campground with wooded sites . Not as imposing as it’s daddy down the road - the Meramec - then again I was simply seeking a quiet evening to think and I found the right spot.

The facilities were well maintained and the Campground Host, a lady by the name of Diane, was congenial and patient with this greenhorn as she fielded my questions. It had rained the morning of my arrival and the ground was slightly muddy, so I pitched my tent on the gravel pad. I initially doubted that I would be comfortable once I decided to find sleep, but found that my sleeping bag, a U.S. Government Issue, Intermediate Cold, cushioned me nicely.

I took a walk around the nearly oval campground, mostly vacant save for a few monstrous motor homes, and found that I was the only camper on site with a tent. I walked into the woods and surprisingly found my way back realizing that the feared encounter with a bear or saber tooth tiger was but a figment of my silly imagination. I set up the picnic table with cheese and crackers, slices of meat, fruit and a bottle of inexpensive, yet the most superb I have tasted, bottle of Merlot. Little tidbits to munch on as I sat for the task at hand. To sit in isolation unencumbered by the distractions of the city with a pencil in hand and a notebook in front of me. To write as the words came to mind without the fuss over structure or an errant comma

The sun sinks slowly in the western sky. Still at least an hour before the official proclamation of the end of day, dusk comes early at ground level in the woods. The silence has an eerie effect on one so accustomed to the noise of the city. Only the birds are singing and the breeze washes through the trees. How I wish I knew the song of the birds. That magical melody holding some deeply guarded secret of the past and perhaps the future. The tree tops shine in the radiance of the sun swaying ,bending, dancing to the music of the winged inhabitants. They comprehend the mystery of the lyrics unlike mere mortals who are simply enthralled by the chirping sounds.

I look over at the bottle. It has reached the halfway point and I wax philosophically for a moment as to whether it is half empty or as the bright eyed optimists would look at it as half full. If I engage myself in debate on such a heady subject, I face a win-win situation. I need not be bored with silly rules of evidence and as the trier of fact I am free to weigh the evidence as I choose.

The sun plunges into the netherworld and darkness covers the world around me. Night has taken hold of the forest the only light the glowing embers of my fire. I sit in the comfort of my chair collecting my thoughts returning to those fearful nights I spent with my eyes straining to overcome the darkness. The only feelings I have tonight are of peace and tranquility.
The canopy above would not permit a full viewing of the those diamonds shining in the night sky, but as I looked through the trees I saw a glimmer of light. It occurred to me then that the moon was open to full view this evening. I looked around and observed slivers of light trace across the ground. A giant flashlight was aimed at the earth and the light came through the trees breaking it into gentle rays .

I was finally exhausted and headed for the tent to sleep away the night. I awoke at 4:00 AM as my body clock beckoned me to arise. Nothing was stirring. No sounds from the highway; no newspapers banging against the door. Only silence, until the pitter patter of raindrops on the tent top. I feel back asleep and when I awoke later, it was still raining. It was time to face the day. I donned my jacket and hat and went forth into the rain sitting in my chair taking in the freshness of the morning. But it continued to rain and interrupted my plans to hike the trail. Monday is another day and I’ll do it then. I broke camp and headed home.