A High Country Tale Ch. 03: Of Odin and Ovid

Arriving in the kitchen a bit later, Jeremy took the reins of preparation for dinner while I set to laying a fire, picking up around the house, then getting Elvee and Suture situated with a romp around the property. Little Elle accompanied us. I was re-familiarizing with everything after being absent these past four months and reconnoitered with them.

Following the tumultuous February festival with all of the revelry and activity, punctuated by the trauma of loss, a period of quietude had descended on all seven of us in the household. For a good couple of weeks, we had recuperated. We sequestered ourselves away from the hubbub for refortification. The time had been salutary.

The Chastains had reconciled their consciences over the loss of their close cohort. The celebrity factor had vacated town along with the gay influence. Ambergai had finally felt comfortable that we 'boys' had healed enough psychologically and taken his leave back to Blue Mountain on the island for attention to some necessary issues.

Adolpho's very successful wine business had needed inventory re-stocking and he had cajoled Bryce into switching his computer programming and coding courses to online status, enabling the duo to visit Tuscany and Florence again for several months. Our best men, Cal and Jake, had stuck with us until we four had decided the downlander world must be rejoined. For the past four months, Jake and I had shifted back to medical rounds at Brack, in Austin, and Jeremy had resumed his spring semester courses at UT. Cal left to tour all seven of his regional corporate offices for long overdue hands-on supervisory and organizational tasks.

The high country had pulled on us like sailors to the sea throughout the time. Finally, as May rolled into June again, Jeremy and I had answered the call. We had set a sojourn into sync with our girls and were now returned for the next months. The Elles were with us for two whole weeks and we were loving every minute. They both changed way too much and too quickly when apart, for our tastes. Though we knew Ellie was supremely happy in her life and wouldn't try swaying her to change it, the interludes at the highland lodge were just too brief.

Well, I pondered, as I watched little Elle race with the boys on the far side of the pond, it was what it was and no matter preferences, some things simply couldn't be different than meant to be. The profundity made me think of the glen up on the divide. Jeremy and I must visit there soon. And it would be good if we took the Chastains with us. Annalise had told me the two of them had not returned since the day of the fire that took away their friends' reality. A visit would have proved too emotionally wrought, she had said. I would see if Jeremy and I could arrange the four of us going together. A good thing for us all, I figured.

The trio of exuberance suddenly surrounded me, snapping me to the everyday, and we made our way to the house for dinner.

"Jeremy, look there--- is that a Bighorn?" I pointed through the windshield up at a high peak as we rounded the hairpin curve. Having left our girls at the Montrose airport an hour before, we had been introspective on the return trip home. I had been perusing the landscape in silence and just spotted the curled horns on a cliff above.

Squinting upward through the windshield, "Yup, I think it is, Luke. Wonder if it could be W.C. That old goat..." My husband was still miffed that the big ram hadn't ever shown himself while we had the girls in residence, 'after all we had done for him', as he had unfairly accused. Like the mature orphan owed it to us onetime fosterers. I smiled to myself. It had been a bit disheartening to see Little Elle's disappointment at missing her friend, but she had experienced a dose of reality. The letdown would end up being a positive someday in the future. I chose to believe that.

My hope was that the magnificent beast was OK. We had heard a lot of clashing horns up in the heights since our homecoming. There were never any assurances when it came to maintenance of the status quo in Nature, and we realized our ram might have been successfully challenged in his supremacy. It was a sobering possibility.

The sighting once again reminded my intention for visiting Elmer's glen. "Honey, can we plan to go see 'The Trees' now that we're by ourselves? I really have had it on my mind that we should. Even if Annalise and Bart aren't ready yet." The innate tugging had increased over the past two days and I surmised that on some level there was a reason for it. Being but an ignorant human with diminished instincts, I tried to pay attention to my inner self. Lately, Sir Id had been much more insistent in his statements. I felt a need for action.

So we agreed.

The ruins of the place were mind numbing. As we stood before the skeletal remains of two lonely obelisks formerly known as fireplaces, the previous February's wounds opened anew. Contrasting the picture of the former log home in its glory to this rubble stole my breath. Jeremy wrapped my waist with his arm, drawing me to him. "Luke, I didn't think the sight would bother me this much. No wonder the Chastains haven't come up yet. They understood."

A powdery residue of ash still covered everything. Sporadic puffs of a faint breeze stirred little whirlwinds of the stuff, accentuating the mood of wistfulness. We climbed up what remained of the rock steps. Turning to take in the grand view from the former front porch, we became pensive.

The venerable old hand-hewn lodge had stood on land cut out of a nature preserve decades before. Elmer had somehow cajoled the state land office and the federal authorities to allow him the one-time privilege of procuring acreage under a defunct set of rules since changed. That was why the man had been able to erect the only edifice on the divide. The veteran's G.I. bill and some other enigmatic justification had afforded him leverage, as cryptically notated on the Federal Bureau of Land Management application dated June, 1949. The exception for his construction, listed as 'by executive mandate', proved to be the only one ever certified. It was a true puzzle we were likely never to decipher. The idea occurred to wonder what Elmer might feel should he see what remained of his physical life here. Would he be bereft? Or satisfied?

As we descended again, a metallic glint caught my eye. Reaching under the edge of one of the foundation stones, I touched a small sharp object fastened in some way underneath the base layer. I had to dig a bit to loosen the thing. Upon doing so, I found that the sharpness comprised but a fraction of the object half-buried there. The two of us worked for several minutes undermining the gravelly base beneath but finally succeeded in freeing a small metal box. It had apparently been there some time. During the fire, settling of the foundation must have occurred, exposing it. The edges were rusted together as were the hinges. We sat on the step and examined the compact case.

"Do you think Elmer maybe put this here?" I was thinking out loud, and JK responded.

"Well, I think we should open it. If it was put here by him then someone should remember what he was about, don't you think?" It made sense. The edges were mortared shut. Jeremy pulled out his Swiss Army knife--- I had long since ceased joshing him for carrying the useful tool--- and over five minutes, he whittled away at the crusts. The box made a clicking sound when he worked at the hinges and the lid moved a tiny bit.

Carefully breaching it, we finally visualized a lining of aged cobalt-blue silk. Set in the middle lay a medal. It was a gold five pointed star, each point tipped with trefoils. A green laurel wreath surrounded it. Suspended from a gold bar inscribed 'VALOR', the whole was surmounted by an eagle. In the center, a woman's head was encircled by 'United States of America'. When we examined the reverse side, it read: 'The Congress to Elmer Bruce Edgewater, Private First Class. June 6, 1944'.

Prickles arose on my skin as we examined it, "Jeremy, I think this is a Medal of Honor. I haven't ever seen one for real but from what I have read, this could be. The picture of the woman must be Minerva. She was the Roman goddess of wisdom and war. Her Greek counterpart was Athena. If this is, how amazing! Why do you think he would have put this right here? And if he did, it must have been done when he laid these rocks, all the way back in the 1940's. That would mean he never preserved it, but buried it soon after it was awarded to him. Look here, below the silk lining. It reads: 'Presented by President Franklin Delano Roosevelt, U.S.A. In honor of bravery, your country thanks you'. We have to give this to Annalise. She should have it...or she will know what to do with it."

Pocketing the box after carefully sealing it as best we could, we headed down the trail to the glade. 'The Trees' was the moniker I used for the place. A nerve had been struck in me regarding the two trees there. The same kind had populated my dream back in February during the ski festival. I remembered being touched, scared, awed and impassioned, among other emotions, when I had related it to Jeremy. The scare had arisen from the sense of aloneness. Ambergai had heard and advised me to write it down. I hadn't done so, but it had remained in my memory more vividly than any other dream ever experienced. Strangely, having been aware it was a dream during its unfolding, I had chosen to follow it. Inherently, I had known it held relevance. For a long time, I figured it was a lesson in humility, because of the 'hedonics-gone-awry' involved. The characters in it had all mimicked my real life in some manner, though in a parallel universe. As if giving me a view of what things might have been. But after reflecting, I had deduced that the latter stages of it provided more import. The part where I had come upon the Oak and Linden trees and reckoned they were 'speaking' to me.

When we had been directed to the glen by Trude and Elmer's letter, all took on new meaning. The guardians of this place were, in truth, the same as those in my dream. They were not indigenous to the area. Elmer had brought the two here, nurturing them. My inner self told me these were why I was frequently pulled this direction. There was a connection. I felt it. As we came near, Jeremy felt it too. He clasped my hand when we entered the small encircled glade.

There was the well-used fire pit with the round pink granite stones. And the painstakingly carved oak bench. And, of course, the august old trees. Nurtured for decades. The two soared toward the sky, tall and stately. They were now, in the summer, surrounded by volunteer purple and green oxalis. And a plethora of mountain flowers. Alpine Columbine flowers, with their elegant blue and white bells, wrapped the flares of each behemoth. The very flower chosen for our wedding ceremony the previous summer.

We were again engulfed in goosebumps. This place was one of the loveliest settings either of us had ever beheld. With the spectacular vista stretching out and downward, any Greek God in the vicinity must mistake it for Mount Olympus. My memory was prompted to Ovid's fable about the ancient Phrygian couple, Baucis and Philemon, who had been transformed into an Oak and a Linden tree by favor of Zeus, so as to ensure the couple's eternal togetherness.

Absorbing the panoply, there came to our ears a subtle bleating sound, arising from the leafy periphery. We were astonished to pick out the long white beard and curling horns of a mountain ram peering from amidst the riot of flowers behind the thick oak trunk. Lying sternally, feet enfolded beneath him, was William Canadensis Ovis, our no-show foster sheep. He gazed calmly at us, thoughtfully chewing his cud, seemingly unsurprised by our appearance. His coat appeared sleek, without any sign of damage or wounds, easing my initial fear. Upon stepping towards him, he rose, standing at an angle to us. His ears twisted forward in curiosity and greeting. His muzzle wiggled back and forth as if acknowledging reason for our presence. Those deep eyes never once left us. He didn't move toward or away, simply holding his position, as if signaling us to get on with it.

'Well, I'll be," Jeremy was bemused. "He has been here for a while, honey, waiting for us. Look at the indentation in the undergrowth where he was laying. No wonder we haven't had a visit from him." Relieved incredulity permeated both of us. Freshly aware he was meant to be here, like us, we didn't approach closer, but acceded his presence and turned away. He seemed to condone the action, continuing the methodical cud-chewing.

Sitting on the bench, we mused together. Leaning into my husband, Dr. Jeremy Fallsworth Kell, I reveled in his strong, bracing arm. Surely, the two Olympians, Elmer and Trude, were the denizens of this place. Their spirits flourished in the trees. In our shared reverie, a gentle highland zephyr caressed our skin. Through the shimmering rustle of the leaves, I thought I heard the poetic jargon from my dream once again. Softly, they spoke, "Young Mandrakes. Live your Lives and thrive together. Plant your legacies and root them strongly. Experience the World. We shall await you."

I shivered involuntarily as the ethereal lyrics washed over me, but neither from fear nor aloneness.

Beside me, Jeremy turned my chin to his face,

"Did you hear that, too, My Man?"

The End