The Green Mountain blues almost sounds like the title of a song. I can almost picture Willie Nelson, pigtail poking out from under his polka dot bandana that's wrapped around his brow as he sits on a tall wooden stool with a guitar in his hands singing, "I get the blues now and then, especially when, when I think of Green, Green Mountain. Yonder she lies, beneath the blue skies, as blue, as blue, as blue as my baby's blue eyes." But Green Mountain isn't a song; it's the place where me and my family and some of our friends live. The mountain itself is a small place, and yet, it's heart, the size of the Rocky Mountains is so big, if you lay your ear to the ground, you can hear it thumping away as it stretches to reach the blue sky. We've only lived here a short time but we've felt happiness and sorrow when someone we know will no longer walk or ever get to walk upon Green Mountain.
Our farm house, which is situated at the base of Green Mountain is very old and quite a few generations of people have lived within it. When the frost is upon the ground and the silence is almost unbearable, you can hear the grass trying to grow. At night, in the darkest hour, if you stretch out on the floor in the corner of a room, it's possible to hear the voices of yesteryear; their jubilations and sadness whispering quietly in your ears. I feel both sad and happy to hear their voices; to feel their long ago pains, their elations, their dreams, their accomplishments and their failures. Regret for living on Green Mountain does not exist, although each in turn, as they passed from this world into the next, looked over thier shoulder one last time with fondness to see the forest, the meadows and the old house on the hill fade from their view. Inevitably, like those who have lived before me, my turn will come and hopefully, whoever takes the time will hear my voice, which holds no regrets, within the corners of this old farm house at the base of Green Mountain.
From the first generation of people who cleared the land and built this old farm house, to the others that have placed their signatures to its frame and surrounding landscape; I hope that when I leave this place at the base of Green Mountain that my labours will be appreciated and enjoyed by my followers; the same as I'm reaping the benefits of those before me. My family and I have found a sense of freedom here. Although the remains of fences can be seen rusting, twisted and entangled within the forest and I too shall build some fences to keep some animals in and other animals out, plenty of space for the moose, deer, bear and other critters that live on the mountail will still remain. Like our domestic animals, we cherish their presence and the enrichness they bring to our lives. Although the world has visible and invisible borders criss-crossing everywhere and all sorts of regulations and view points have been applied unmercilessly, I feel the animals, which live on the mountain, have as much right to live here as we do.
My family and I left a bustling and growing city; the rules, regulations and fences were endless. If I would have waved or smiled at a stranger in passing, I most likely would have been considered to be very odd, someone to avoid but here on Green Mountain, to do such a thing is to be expected and the reverse may ensue if a wave or a smile is not returned. Unfortunately, although we are quite a distance from any large cities, we still can't escape that part of the population, which has embraced the lower chambers of life. Because of their lowly substance habits, which are needed as badly as the air they breathe; their lying, cheating and robbing extends even to the surrounding area of Green Mountain. It's not that I haven't wallowed within those lower chambers during parts of my life as well but I was fortunate because while I was advancing toward the epitome of that mire, having touched for a short time the wholesome values of an almost forgotten era, I managed to pull myself together. I may not live in a log house high on a hill overlooking my grandfolk's farm in Woodpecker, BC but this place on Green Mountain feels very familiar; the forest, meadows, lakes and streams abounding with wild animals is very much the same.
I guess if I'm feeling the Green Mountain Blues, it's not because of what I left behind, it's because I took so long in reaching this destination. I'm an old man now and the dreams which rattle around and echo within the chambers of my mind are usually those of younger men with more ambition, physical strength and vigor. But perhaps one of the main reasons of longevity or the meaning of life is not to give in; one should work hard at attaining those dreams even if it kills them - it's the not trying, the holding back, thinking the impossible isn't possible, the building past regrets that makes a person truly old and die before their time. My heart is in tune with Green Mountain and although the mountain's heart will beat a millenium longer than mine, I'll be happy to have been allowed to share a very tiny segment of its life.
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