I went back to the Emigrant Wilderness for a 6 night/7day backpacking trip. It was like I’d never been there before. Of course, I remembered some of the trails and the lakes. They’re unforgettable.
What I mean is that I was in awe every day.
That kind of majestic beauty is not something one could get used to. I was as full of wonder this time as I was the first time. But I’m the girl who sits in her sunroom every morning and never grows weary of the view of the backyard….the woods….the wind….the way the sun shines through the trees, or the clouds gather for a storm, or the rabbits, squirrels, chipmunks, robins, or occasional deer or bobcat visit the fruit trees to see what they can find.
It never grows old.
One day in the Emigrant Wilderness we came into a meadow. As we hiked through it, I felt a kind of nostalgia. I felt the way I feel in one of my dreams. A recurring dream I’ve dreamed since I was a girl.
These words came to me over and over, but I couldn’t get past the third line:
There’s a place I go in my dreams
A place I’ve gone since a child
It’s the place where the hills and the meadows…..
I don’t know the next words yet. I do know in this place I go in my dreams, I am safe. I seem to be alone, but I don’t feel lonely. It is well with my soul in that place in my dreams.
Photo credits: William Jacobs, Mark Booth, Bruce Martin, Paulette Clements