Intruder

It has been drizzling rain all day. More like a mist than rain. A fog has been hovering just above the tree line, and there is a chill in the dusky air. The town I live in sits at the base of a mountain where the pine trees overpower the landscape and reach in unison toward the heavens. A river runs through the middle of our small town and has taken the place of the proverbial ‘railroad track’. Though there is one that runs along the outskirts, it is complacent to be over grown with grass these days. On the other side of the mountain is the ocean in all her majesty. She provides a dose of lingering salt air, and daily visits from the Sea Gulls that call her home.

Today I endeavored on an exploring journey and ended up on a dead-end road at the base of the mountain, a few blocks from home. The road itself is dirt, layered with pebbles and pine needles, so as my vehicle slowly made the grade along its edge, the sound of gravel echoed through the quiet. As I neared the ‘Dead-End’, the fog seemed to be drifting down the side of the mountain, quietly, as if attempting to move un-noticed as it came down to take a closer look at the intruder who dared disturb its serenity.

When I stopped, there was an eerie silence. The river was still, the trees were quiet, and the mist abated. Drenched in my senses, I allowed myself the surreal moment.