Monday, January 24, 2011

Welcome to Germany Valley

Welcome to Germany Valley. My valley - where my life's blood runs deep like caverns through the hillsides, and memories run long like rivers cutting through eons old stone.

Where the ghosts of the past still linger with the living -

And the fallow fields and ancient orchards remind us of those who have gone before.

It is a place where television cannot replace the views outside the windows, or compete with a walk in the summer sun.

Where a handful of raspberries is the nectar of the gods-

And it is a place where country cats test their cunning, and silver-leaf describes the poplar in the yard.

Here you can still see why Batts and Fallam described the mountains as "giant waves of land shrouded in mist, as if the ocean were frozen in place."

It's not hard to believe they thought there were lakes under the fog.

This is where the homesteads of ancestors still stand, revered, as holy places.

Where ancient institutions of learning still exist, and now hold countless moments of epiphany.

This is a place where amber waves truly wave -
Here the trees frame the mountains, as they create grand views.

And where ancestors repose on hilltops, so they will be closer to the creator.

Where the best seat in the house faces west towards Spruce Knob,

And spread between the mountains lie family farms, maintained for generations.

The valley is ringed with limestone cliffs, where eagles fly on the wind.

And the fencerow's milkweed ladies go dancing in the breeze.

This is where fall colors are for more than just the trees -

Where entertainment has no limit except your own curiosity-

And where things you've only seen in paintings come to life.
Where history is carved in stone, and in blood.

And where lilacs bloom to remind us that life is perennial.

It's where good lives are remembered and celebrated, and tokens of love are shared.

In this valley, beauty exists in the simplest of things, and in the tiniest of moments
Welcome to my valley.