THE FOLLOWING IS DEDICATED TO KT.
Robert Markham
This poem was written for this time of year, Robert died before the next spring (1979), but he is still her with us.
I would like to be here come spring
if it is with you
I would like to be here
if it is with you
I will fiddle a song sing
I will plant a life to you
if in spring I am here
if all of me is here in spring
you will know of me
if in spring I am here
you will hear from me
I have said it
- Robert Thomas Markham
RETT HARPER
Rett is a mother and teacher. Her signature must be the Community School plays, and being a good neighbor.
The kids and I had landmarks along the route: the magic waterfall where the Hobbits lived, the one-mile tree -- a mile to our home, Windy Point -- the narrowest curve with a precipitous drop-off the monkey tree -- a dead, barkless cottonwood like the fake trees in a monkey cage, the raccoon tree -- a raccoon raised her babies in its hole, Horseshoe bend -- the shape of road. Animals touched our lives on the road: the shaggy bear we followed for a mile where we couldn't pass and he couldn't get off the road, he mountain lion crossing down to the creek at dusk, the wild-eyed bull elk that charged my little Honda veering off at the last moment, hot flank brushing my arm, the owl with a ten-foot wingspan that led me home on a moonlit night. In a winter storm I was always relieved to turn onto that silent empty road and proceed at the pace of a snowflake -- just me and the elements -- no other drivers to watch out for or be pushed by. The snowplow came at four a.m after plowing all the main roads: so progress home for dinner could be difficult. Once I had to leave my car stuck in a drift and carry my two-year-old daughter through the storm for the last two miles. Another time my husband had to stand on the back bumper of our VW Bug for traction while I drove and the kids were snug in the backseat watching him become a snowman. On a dry summer or fall day a white-knuckle ride took fifteen minutes and luck that you didn't meet another vehicle around one of the blind curves. A normally cautious ride took twenty-five minutes. That was just to get on a main road. On Lenado Road, you could focus on the destination, home or town or the school bus, hurry up and get it over with. Or you could focus on the road, the ride and the time together -- a single lane with turnouts.
