April Fools

I had not realized that so much time has passed since my last post.  I think it is safe to say that Spring is finally here, and with it there is work to be done as well as running to enjoy.  So over the past two weeks I spaded the garden beds, I pruned and fertilized the apple trees, I fertilized the lawn, I removed the rotten oak barrels from the garden area, I picked up more fallen branches.  There never seems to be an end to yard work this time of year, but it is as satisfying as a long run, and (as I re-discovered while spading the garden beds) equally as necessary to pace yourself.

Our tulips are coming up now, finally, and I posted this on Facebook last week.  Of course, it can still snow in Highlands, and it usually does on the daffodils, but once the tulips are blooming the new season seems locked more securely in place.

We have been running more and more, too, now that warmer weather is here.  On these beautiful mornings, clouds often nestle in the valleys and rise up gradually, and then blow away like wild white hair from the mountaintops; mornings like this call us to the summit of Big Bearpen again.  The lakes of South Carolina can almost be seen to the south.

And to the east, Whiteside stands up shining and glorious, clouds drifting across its face.

Friday was a "rest day" between a two-mile run down Sassafras Gap Road and a 9-mile run on this April Fool's Day, so Martha and I hiked to the top of Sunset for the first time this year.  This climb always puts into perspective the bustle down below on Main Street.

We have hiked (and run) up here so many times I have lost track, but sometimes on the way up I like to remember and name silently all of the friends and relatives and daughters and mothers-in-law and dogs that have gone this journey with us over 40 years.  I posted this on Facebook and my nephew's wife commented, "I've been up there!" 

On this day in the past, some of us used to run down Horse Cove Road - and, more significantly, back up again! - and I can name those April fools silently as well.  The First Fool was Morris (he would like that title, I think).  I well remember the day when we were starting to cross Main Street at the start of what was then the "usual" route, but there was a stream of traffic blocking the road for some reason; so we turned left, past the Episcopal Church, toward that point where Main Street turns into Horse Cove Road and drops a thousand feet or so in elevation down to the valley below, and one of us (me, probably) said, "Hey, why don't we run down to Horse Cove and back?"  And I think it was Morris who replied with those dangerous words, "I will if you will!"  And so it began, the long descent burning in your calves and hamstrings, the turn at the Little Church in the Wildwood, and then the even longer climb back up this relentless mountain, one step after another, refusing to stop, the only traffic an occasional out-of-state car dragging behind it the sour fragrance of burning brakes.  We kept up the tradition for several years, and I even recall running it all by myself one year in a light snow on a cold and hungry afternoon before meeting Martha for dinner at Cyprus.

We old fools have had some good times!