[ Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
] Date Posted:15:21:24 09/09/02 Mon
The Friday before leaving for Europe we went camping.off the cliffs one or two miles from BIA 144.The road into the place is alright ..for a little while...then it turns into a wagon road,the problem's that there are no wagons going over it ,for many years now,so in reality there is no road..just a truck turning west ,going towards where the old Ramah post used to be.There's nothing there either...just and old red pump and the well,open faced and dangerous,deep and quiet.From there you make your own road as you go. That requires to get out of the car and move dead wood, and rocks and other things that stop you from going. Even in the middle of the hot day the place is sort of dark and mysterious. Three or four abandon sheep camps, I house, with a whole in the west wall,abandoned,other ruins and overgrown vegetation. As we gain altitude the scenery changes....more pinions...taller cedars and finally the tall ponderosas pines.we're in the summit now...to the right about a quarter of a mile to my left there's a canyon. At five in the evening darkness starts to gain terrain. Now and then a little patch of the sun, going down in the west ,filters thru the pines bought.
Curt diggs a hole in the soft ground,then goes looking for rocks to make a fire circle,The ground smells of moisture ,carpets of pine needles cover the ground. In hands and knees he cleans a big area so it will no be no danger of the fire spreading.There's firewood all over,it requieres no effort to gather it, It doesn't look like nobody has been in the place for ages.When we were little we used to come here all the time. ...There's where my grandfather hearded his sheep in summer,There was a hogan by the edge of the canyon and some tree trunks put together,the wider planks on the bottom ,the thinner ones in the top forming some kind of tippi. as children Curt and I loved to play in there.
Now all is gone ,no one comes to this place anymore.
It gets darker and there's no moon yet.The only light comes from the fire,Curtis drops a quilt on the ground and lays on it by the fire. I'm roasting some mutton and he constantly gives me instructions of how to do it.
After we eat I go into my station wagon and lay quietly. The wind pick up for a little while and then all is silence. From far away a grinding noise is heard...windmill #11 sails,always sounding as if they're going to come off. I close my eyes and let time go back in my mind.I was fifteen and he was about seventeen...we met under windmill #11 sails. He had long hair and dark eyes,so dark that when he smiled all you could see was two slits of light.He smiled nice too. and spoke real soft....His name was Franklin and he belong to the Nakai'i clan..his other clans I don't remember..but the Nakai'i was taboo...He said he loved me once..but it was wrong as I was his clan sister....
He had dark eyes and long hair and a sweet smile..and when I was fifteen he kissed my cheek under windmill 11 sails.
What are you thinking about Moon ? Curt asks.
Just about the old times ..I answer him...
Mai'i starts to sing over the canyon rim...Good night grandmother...good night grandmother ....goodnight Franklin.
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
Date Posted:20:33:17 09/09/02 Mon
Oh, First Loves, Wonderful memories
And the Roasted Mutton smells good too.B-)
>The Friday before leaving for Europe we went
>camping.off the cliffs one or two miles from BIA
>144.The road into the place is alright ..for a little
>while...then it turns into a wagon road,the problem's
>that there are no wagons going over it ,for many
>years now,so in reality there is no road..just a
>truck turning west ,going towards where the old Ramah
>post used to be.There's nothing there either...just
>and old red pump and the well,open faced and
>dangerous,deep and quiet.From there you make your own
>road as you go. That requires to get out of the car
>and move dead wood, and rocks and other things that
>stop you from going. Even in the middle of the hot
>day the place is sort of dark and mysterious. Three
>or four abandon sheep camps, I house, with a whole in
>the west wall,abandoned,other ruins and overgrown
>vegetation. As we gain altitude the scenery
>changes....more pinions...taller cedars and finally
>the tall ponderosas pines.we're in the summit
>now...to the right about a quarter of a mile to my
>left there's a canyon. At five in the evening
>darkness starts to gain terrain. Now and then a little
>patch of the sun, going down in the west ,filters
>thru the pines bought.
>Curt diggs a hole in the soft ground,then goes
>looking for rocks to make a fire circle,The ground
>smells of moisture ,carpets of pine needles cover the
>ground. In hands and knees he cleans a big area so it
>will no be no danger of the fire spreading.There's
>firewood all over,it requieres no effort to gather
>it, It doesn't look like nobody has been in the place
>for ages.When we were little we used to come here all
>the time. ...There's where my grandfather hearded his
>sheep in summer,There was a hogan by the edge of the
>canyon and some tree trunks put together,the wider
>planks on the bottom ,the thinner ones in the top
>forming some kind of tippi. as children Curt and I
>loved to play in there.
>Now all is gone ,no one comes to this place anymore.
>It gets darker and there's no moon yet.The only light
>comes from the fire,Curtis drops a quilt on the
>ground and lays on it by the fire. I'm roasting some
>mutton and he constantly gives me instructions of how
>to do it.
>After we eat I go into my station wagon and lay
>quietly. The wind pick up for a little while and then
>all is silence. From far away a grinding noise is
>heard...windmill #11 sails,always sounding as if
>they're going to come off. I close my eyes and let
>time go back in my mind.I was fifteen and he was about
>seventeen...we met under windmill #11 sails. He had
>long hair and dark eyes,so dark that when he smiled
>all you could see was two slits of light.He smiled
>nice too. and spoke real soft....His name was Franklin
>and he belong to the Nakai'i clan..his other clans I
>don't remember..but the Nakai'i was taboo...He said
>he loved me once..but it was wrong as I was his clan
>sister....
>He had dark eyes and long hair and a sweet smile..and
>when I was fifteen he kissed my cheek under windmill
>11 sails.
>
>What are you thinking about Moon ? Curt asks.
>
>Just about the old times ..I answer him...
>
>Mai'i starts to sing over the canyon rim...Good night
>grandmother...good night grandmother ....goodnight
>Franklin.
