A Grotto
Don A. Campbell
There is a place in the deep shaded woods where a rock ledge, which feels older than time, thrusts up from the forest floor. On its south face, when the sun is angled just right, a ray of light fills a natural grotto formed by a cleft in the rock. Deep within, clinging to a wall of gray-weathered stone grows a cactus. It is totally out of its natural place, yet it is fitting in this sanctuary.
The presence of this cactus tells me this grotto is known by someone with the soul of a poet. For the cactus did not come here by accident.
In all the years I have come to visit, I have seen no sign of who might have planted it, or that they have returned to tend it. Yet it thrives. So, often when the sun is just right, I come to admire this sanctuary.
In this place someone created a moment of beauty that will last in memory forever. Here, someone was inspired by the eternal which guides and stirs the artist that lurks in the soul of all of us.
Having experienced the quiet magic of this grotto, I yearn for for the eternal muse of such places to touch me. I know that had I been so moved, had I created this place, I would feel no need to return. For it is the function of moments of beauty to be timeless and complete.
This grotto, like a poem once written, becomes an eternal moment that enfolds its self to become unbounded.
Forever Moments
Don Campbell
I love watching the dappled light and shadow of clear swift flowing water, of looking into the realm of quick flashing silver shapes and golden rays of penetrating sunlight. I am captured by the rippling, flickering shadows cast by waves twisting sunshine into a wonder world of illusion. I love tangy scent of the cedars on the shore and the wet sound that a swift flowing stream makes as it bumps rocks and gurgles its way over, under and around the world it has created for itself. A river is a living thing. It is never the same yet it is constant regardless of its moods.
The Wolf River in northern Wisconsin is one of my places. It is an escape yet a returning home. Standing waist deep in its cool water before the sun has cleared away the morning mist, is a world far removed from the noise and clamor of the too tightconfines of civilized life.
My best morning on the Wolf was simple. For a few moments it was even too perfect a time to fish. I had worked my way to mid-river and had stopped to look into the water and soak in the sound and feel of it pushing against the legs of my waders. In that moment of solitude I noticed a flicker of movement. As I watched the cedar green wood along the shore, a doe brought two fawns to the water’s edge to drink. A man in the water is not a common sight and doesn’t make the sounds of the hunt. So she showed no recognition or fear.
I watched her lead her young into the river and I watched them explore the sensation of flowing water. She kept them near the shore as she dipped her muzzle, eyes deep, into the river to graze on the succulent water grasses. As I stood there, a beaver emerged from under a bank just up stream from the doe and within seconds of her swimming clear of the bank, four kits came scooting out after her. As the kits frolicked, the fawns tried to wade into deeper water to investigate. But the doe gave a sharp grunting snort to call them back. Then her ears went up and she flicked her tail as she turned to look down river. The fawns turned to look as she did.
It took me a moment to hear what caused her caution. Then came the steady hard flap of large wings. I twisted slowly to see the dark shape of an Osprey emerge out of the mist. Even with its seeming four foot wing span it was struggling to gain altitude as it worked its way up the river channel. It was carrying a trout so big that I would have been happy with the bragging rights. I watched the mist swirl around it as the slow almost fluid sound of its wings seemed to soak into the woods and water. With a sharp pistol like slap of its tail, the beaver and then kits dove and vanished into their warren under the river bank. The doe whistled and her tail went up into a bright white danger flag and she and the fawns jumped in arching bounds into the woods. In a few moments the Osprey and its catch vanished into the mists and I was alone with the river. Yet I knew I wasn’t alone. From their places in a hidden world, life watched me while I invaded their quiet place.
I didn’t catch many trout that morning. I didn’t need to; I had lived a perfect and forever moment.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
A Halloween story.
Here is a short Halloween story I hope for your reading pleasure.
Don’t walk on the Grass
Don Campbell
It was halloween night and I was walking into the library to attend a public reading of stories people had written. On the way from the parking lot I found someone's story were they had dropped it. I carried it in thinking to return it. But I could find no one who claimed it. Curious I read it, now I think you should know about it.
It starts:
Jamie and I was out in the woods. We was just goofing around. We kept hearing this rumble coming from the ground. And we kept lookin’ around for it. We found this grassy place and there was this ordinary looking hole.
Well -- not ordinary.
It was plenty big enough to fall in. But not like an old well. It’s sides were dirt not bricks like wells are. I knew there must be water down there ‘cuz I could see this swirly gray mist kinda hanging over the hole. It didn’t even go away when the breeze blew hard. It was funny, like it was almost solid, but it was mist. So I figured it must be coming up a lot to not get blown away.
Jamie said, “It’s a sink whole. I saw all about them on TV. Water carries dirt away so the hole falls in.
“It fallin’ – that’s what made the rumbling.” He got real close and said, “I can hear water running.”
I couldn’t hear any water and this hole was straight down, not the kind that caves in all broken like on the sides. It looked like someone had dug it, but there weren’t no dirt on the grass. And no sign of anyone walking or having a machine there.
That was weird.
Jamie dropped a rock in. We tried to hear it hit but it never did.
He said, “Too small. I need something bigger.”
I didn’t like him doing that. That hole didn’t look right. When I looked in, deep down there was a flat blackness that pulled me like I was high up and getting dizzy. Like the time I was way up in a tree and the wind blew and everything moved and swayed like I was dizzy but the movement was real, not me being dizzy. It was like that.
After that, I wouldn’t go next to the hole.
I stayed away while Jamie went to look for a big rock. He came waddling back with one bigger then he should carry. He went right up and pitched it in.
After a minute he said, “Damnit,” Jamie was always using cuss words, “Why can’t I hear it hit?”
Well, I looked at that hole – and it looked like it had moved. Not much. But the flowers on the side looked further away. I knew that couldn’t be. It had to an optical illusion like you see in books.
Jamie said, “To hell with rocks,” and started for the woods. Well I wasn’t going to stay by that hole so I sent along. We made a ball with dry moss and grass and birch bark. Then he stuck a branch through it as a handle, then we went back. I looked at that hole and it looked like it had moved again. But there was still grass all around it so it couldn’t have moved because there weren’t no bare spot. But thinking it had moved made me feel squirmy inside.
I told Jamie. “I’m not doing this, that hole is too weird.”
He just laughed at me, “Bull. Hold this while I light it. I want it burning good.” He put his lighter under it and I turned it so the whole thing was burning.
Jamie said, “Go ahead drop it.”
“Uh uh not me. I don’t want to do this, it don’t feel right.”
He called me chicken, and said “Gimme that.” And he grabbed it outta my hand.
It was licking up flames and smoke and he pointed the stick down to let the flame ball slide off. Only it didn’t.
My eyes got stuck looking at the smoke, it was getting sucked into the mist. Watching it was like seeing around a curve. I mean – I was way back from the hole, but the way I could see the smoke .... It was like I was standing right over the hole watching.
Then the fire started to twist and spiral right down the center of the hole. It was mixing with the mist that was going in not coming out. I saw the smoke, flame, then stick and Jamie’s arm just seem to bend and stretch and look like things do when you feel dizzy.
Jamie didn’t even yelp when he started to bend and twist. He just flowed head first into that black hole and kept spinning and getting smaller and smaller until I couldn’t see him no more.
I was so scared I peed all down my leg. Then the hole burped and started to move toward me.
I ran like hell.
They looked for Jamie for a week. I couldn’t tell what I saw. I said we were playing and he was hiding and I couldn’t find him so I thought he had gone home to play a trick on me.
I’m older now. I really want to tell someone cause when I feel the rumble in the ground I know what it is. And I know why so many people are missing and why no one ever finds them.
I can feel the hole looking for me ‘cuz I know once you’ve seen it, it keeps looking for you.
I think somebody else knows too, that’s why they put up those don’t walk on the grass signs. They’re warning you.
I never ever walk on grass no more.
I heard that rumble real close today.
I always stay on the pavement. I hope that makes it ok. But ...
***
This ends there – the sentence unfinished.
But, I remember when I pulled in to park, there was this young fellow walking across the parking lot real quick and he was writing something.
I thought it was strange that there was a mist around his feet like you see on the pavement after it rains.
But I turned to pick up my things.
I remember a rumble like a truck had gone by.
When I looked back I didn’t see him. I thought he had gone inside. Then I found his story on the pavement.
I'll telling you this because I want you to be careful. Now that I have seen the mist, I can feel it’s pretty hungry and I don't think it minds pavement at all.
Don’t walk on the Grass
Don Campbell
It was halloween night and I was walking into the library to attend a public reading of stories people had written. On the way from the parking lot I found someone's story were they had dropped it. I carried it in thinking to return it. But I could find no one who claimed it. Curious I read it, now I think you should know about it.
It starts:
Jamie and I was out in the woods. We was just goofing around. We kept hearing this rumble coming from the ground. And we kept lookin’ around for it. We found this grassy place and there was this ordinary looking hole.
Well -- not ordinary.
It was plenty big enough to fall in. But not like an old well. It’s sides were dirt not bricks like wells are. I knew there must be water down there ‘cuz I could see this swirly gray mist kinda hanging over the hole. It didn’t even go away when the breeze blew hard. It was funny, like it was almost solid, but it was mist. So I figured it must be coming up a lot to not get blown away.
Jamie said, “It’s a sink whole. I saw all about them on TV. Water carries dirt away so the hole falls in.
“It fallin’ – that’s what made the rumbling.” He got real close and said, “I can hear water running.”
I couldn’t hear any water and this hole was straight down, not the kind that caves in all broken like on the sides. It looked like someone had dug it, but there weren’t no dirt on the grass. And no sign of anyone walking or having a machine there.
That was weird.
Jamie dropped a rock in. We tried to hear it hit but it never did.
He said, “Too small. I need something bigger.”
I didn’t like him doing that. That hole didn’t look right. When I looked in, deep down there was a flat blackness that pulled me like I was high up and getting dizzy. Like the time I was way up in a tree and the wind blew and everything moved and swayed like I was dizzy but the movement was real, not me being dizzy. It was like that.
After that, I wouldn’t go next to the hole.
I stayed away while Jamie went to look for a big rock. He came waddling back with one bigger then he should carry. He went right up and pitched it in.
After a minute he said, “Damnit,” Jamie was always using cuss words, “Why can’t I hear it hit?”
Well, I looked at that hole – and it looked like it had moved. Not much. But the flowers on the side looked further away. I knew that couldn’t be. It had to an optical illusion like you see in books.
Jamie said, “To hell with rocks,” and started for the woods. Well I wasn’t going to stay by that hole so I sent along. We made a ball with dry moss and grass and birch bark. Then he stuck a branch through it as a handle, then we went back. I looked at that hole and it looked like it had moved again. But there was still grass all around it so it couldn’t have moved because there weren’t no bare spot. But thinking it had moved made me feel squirmy inside.
I told Jamie. “I’m not doing this, that hole is too weird.”
He just laughed at me, “Bull. Hold this while I light it. I want it burning good.” He put his lighter under it and I turned it so the whole thing was burning.
Jamie said, “Go ahead drop it.”
“Uh uh not me. I don’t want to do this, it don’t feel right.”
He called me chicken, and said “Gimme that.” And he grabbed it outta my hand.
It was licking up flames and smoke and he pointed the stick down to let the flame ball slide off. Only it didn’t.
My eyes got stuck looking at the smoke, it was getting sucked into the mist. Watching it was like seeing around a curve. I mean – I was way back from the hole, but the way I could see the smoke .... It was like I was standing right over the hole watching.
Then the fire started to twist and spiral right down the center of the hole. It was mixing with the mist that was going in not coming out. I saw the smoke, flame, then stick and Jamie’s arm just seem to bend and stretch and look like things do when you feel dizzy.
Jamie didn’t even yelp when he started to bend and twist. He just flowed head first into that black hole and kept spinning and getting smaller and smaller until I couldn’t see him no more.
I was so scared I peed all down my leg. Then the hole burped and started to move toward me.
I ran like hell.
They looked for Jamie for a week. I couldn’t tell what I saw. I said we were playing and he was hiding and I couldn’t find him so I thought he had gone home to play a trick on me.
I’m older now. I really want to tell someone cause when I feel the rumble in the ground I know what it is. And I know why so many people are missing and why no one ever finds them.
I can feel the hole looking for me ‘cuz I know once you’ve seen it, it keeps looking for you.
I think somebody else knows too, that’s why they put up those don’t walk on the grass signs. They’re warning you.
I never ever walk on grass no more.
I heard that rumble real close today.
I always stay on the pavement. I hope that makes it ok. But ...
***
This ends there – the sentence unfinished.
But, I remember when I pulled in to park, there was this young fellow walking across the parking lot real quick and he was writing something.
I thought it was strange that there was a mist around his feet like you see on the pavement after it rains.
But I turned to pick up my things.
I remember a rumble like a truck had gone by.
When I looked back I didn’t see him. I thought he had gone inside. Then I found his story on the pavement.
I'll telling you this because I want you to be careful. Now that I have seen the mist, I can feel it’s pretty hungry and I don't think it minds pavement at all.
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