I-40 About to Re-Open!
Continuing on the theme of the inexorable pace of Nature so recently examined in this space, we will now consider the will of ten million pounds of rock. We reflect on the 250 million years the Appalachians have been here (250 million years, folks, where I come from they call that Permian) and the gradual rate at which they fall back to sea level.They care not for interstate commerce. Holiday traffic is of no concern to them. Your next business meeting? They can't be bothered.
They take their cues from molten lava at the earth's center, and from the steady pace of raindrops.
And from gravity, which is pretty hard to avoid.
It is in fact all quite joyous, to me at least.The inevitable, cyclic and predictable arrival of Spring is to me as are volcanoes erupting, mountains eroding. As the earthworm pokes itself up out of its burrow just one more time so is a bit of rock dust swept away by a rain shower. As magma erupts from the Earth so is the greening of the grass. I loose sight of the big things as I go through my day, though. The little things I can keep track of a wonder about for an eternity:
Mason bees sometimes nest in sap-sucker holes. Sap-suckers poke holes to get at beetle larvae. Beetles lay their eggs in trees. No beetles, mason bees.
It would be folly to even try to conceive of interrupting the cycle, but not to put a road through a mountain. We all know damn well we can't get the grass to stop growing or the crows to shut up, but we're convinced we can stop a mountain?
Myself, I wish I could be there. I wish I could be an onlooker when the governor or whover cuts the ribbon and the first semi exceeds the speed limit.
On second thought, I don't wish to be there. I would, however, like to be there, at that day in the distant future, when the highest most point on Clingman's Dome finds itself lapped by the waves of the Atlantic. I'll pick up any trash or spare hubcaps and just sit there a while. Cause sooner or later the ground will rise back up.
They take their cues from molten lava at the earth's center, and from the steady pace of raindrops.
And from gravity, which is pretty hard to avoid.
It is in fact all quite joyous, to me at least.The inevitable, cyclic and predictable arrival of Spring is to me as are volcanoes erupting, mountains eroding. As the earthworm pokes itself up out of its burrow just one more time so is a bit of rock dust swept away by a rain shower. As magma erupts from the Earth so is the greening of the grass. I loose sight of the big things as I go through my day, though. The little things I can keep track of a wonder about for an eternity:
Mason bees sometimes nest in sap-sucker holes. Sap-suckers poke holes to get at beetle larvae. Beetles lay their eggs in trees. No beetles, mason bees.
It would be folly to even try to conceive of interrupting the cycle, but not to put a road through a mountain. We all know damn well we can't get the grass to stop growing or the crows to shut up, but we're convinced we can stop a mountain?
Myself, I wish I could be there. I wish I could be an onlooker when the governor or whover cuts the ribbon and the first semi exceeds the speed limit.
On second thought, I don't wish to be there. I would, however, like to be there, at that day in the distant future, when the highest most point on Clingman's Dome finds itself lapped by the waves of the Atlantic. I'll pick up any trash or spare hubcaps and just sit there a while. Cause sooner or later the ground will rise back up.
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