I did not skip out on my wordcount yesterday, as the NaNo calender would have you believe. I just wrote it all after midnight, Tom and I were watching a movie. ^^;; But I didn't let myself go to sleep until I had written my quota, so it's all good. I think I'm actually a full day's ahead on writing, without having even tried to get there, but I'm refusing to let myself fall back on that cushion. I'm sure something awful will come up to keep me away from writing for a whole day, and I will need the life preserver.
Anyway, hopefully I am done stalling and my chicky will find the house tomorrow. I really thought I was going to get there today, buuuut, my subconscious author decided to stall. Again. I did some sketching today though, and stared at some resource pictures, which is good. Unfortunately I am not very good at designing architecture... but I know what general features I want, which is all I'll really need for the purposes of the novel, I think.
So I was up until 2am writing last night, and couldn't fall asleep due to the two cans of pop I'd had until like 3. I was lazy and didn't get out of bed until almost noon. It is now 9:30, I've been nursing a travel mug of strong coffee for a couple hours, and am ready to conk out. Wth.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Part 13
I followed the creek bed for maybe an hour or so, out of necessity as much as desire, since the banks alongside it looked more and more forbidding as I went on. I knew it would flatten out once I got down to the lake front, but the more the thought lingered in my mind, the less I wanted to make that trip that afternoon. I'd used up more than half of the film I had with me already. (I had left the digital camera back at the house, I was using it less and less lately - I was in the mindset now for photos with effort put into them, I wanted the control the SLR provided, I wasn't after the immediate gratification of the digital camera. One of these days I should really get a digital SLR.) I hated walking the same path twice when I was out taking pictures, so I was determined to not have to back-track along the creek and climb up the bank at the same place I'd scrambled down it. I started watching the bank, looking for a place to get up out of the creek bed, determined to take the next way out that I saw. I was still trying to decide which side of the creek I wanted to go up to (did I want to head back yet, or do a little more exploring?), when I saw what looked like an actual path leading up from the creek back into the woods. It was on the opposite side from the Mayhew's, so that settled that question for me - I couldn't resist that easy of a climb, I'd been worrying about how to manage my camera without risking damage to it in climbing and possibly slipping. I was pretty sure a road crossed the creek not too far off in either direction, there were one or two bridges between where the Mayhew's place was and the lake, and I knew there was another road just above the Mayhew's that crossed the creek. As long as I kept somewhat parallel to the creek, I'd hit a bridge eventually, and could find my way back easily from there.
I decided to head back away from the lake, I'd save the lake for a separate trip. There would be plenty to spot from here back to the road, and then the house. I found a shallow portion of the creek, and stepped carefully from dry rock to mostly-dry rock across the water, soon reaching the broader sheets of dry rock at the edge of the water. I backtracked a little way, and found the path I'd seen.
It really was a path. I shouldn't really have been surprised to find one, I wasn't going to be the only person who ever wanted to walk along a stream, but what did surprise me was the path itself. Small shrubs and tall grasses obscured it a bit, the new year's growth obviously having not been disturbed much this early in the season, but the path was still clearly marked - there was a slab of perfectly rectangular stone set at the base of it, just above where I thought the spring waterline would be, and there were small, half-buried stones set in a distinct dotted line along the sides, leading up the slope. I hadn't seen the smaller stones at first, due to the underbrush and some being covered in soil and debris, but now that I had seen a few, I could see many more, apparently lining the path all the way up. I worried that I might be stumbling into someone's back yard...but I hadn't seen any "no trespassing" signs, so whoever's path this was, they must not mind visitors. Still, I kept my eyes open for any of the threatening notices posted to trees, maybe I'd just missed some while in the creek.
I crouched down low to the damp ground, angling the camera to try to get both the base stone and some of the smaller ones into a shot, but it was difficult with the angle of the hill and the amount of brush. I made my way up the slope, looking all the time for warning signs of other people having been there recently, but for all its clarity, it didn't look like the path had been used in ages. I was constantly ducking under branches and stepping over grasping plants - some of which were large enough to make me think they hadn't been cut back in years. A few times I thought I'd have to find another path, the tangle of vines and wild rose branches were so dense from about waist-height upwards. I couldn't figure it out, though, how could it be this overgrown, and yet there be nothing at all growing out of the ground that made up the path? Unless it was really little kids, or maybe animals, that walked this route...but no, they wouldn't have the weight to trample things out this thoroughly, and either one of those would use the path intermittently, I couldn't think of any reason for it to be traveled on such a constant basis to keep all plant life down. I supposed there must be some sort of weed-killer ground into the soil or something, or maybe a sewer line or something ran under it? That would explain why it would need to be marked out...but if it were in use, it would be way beyond illegal to have it run down to the creek, and if it were old, the damage wouldn't run in this straight of a line, it would surely have leaked out to either side in places. I had no idea.
When I reached the top, I thought I'd lost the path - the lines of small stones I'd been following disappeared from sight a few feet ahead. I couldn't blame the undergrowth here, now that I was back up among the larger trees, the ground was clearer, all of the small stuff not able to get enough light or nutrients under the shade of the big trees. I turned back and tried a few shots of the stone-lined path down the hill, which worked a little better than the ones I'd tried taking in the other direction. Straightening up, I looked out into the woods, scanning my eyes slowly around. Maybe it was just a trail down to the water, to mark out the one good place to make it down the slope... but there were no houses in sight from where I now stood, no sign of civilization at all.
Or maybe---
I walked quickly over to a small pile of rocks not far off, and then grinned broadly. It was a neatly stacked column of several stones, obviously man-made, and apparently having been there for a very long time. I wondered vaguely who it was that had used the same type of marker as the boys, only long ago... but they must have learned it from someone, it seemed to be a pretty effective way of marking things, if the stones could be made to stay in place that well for probably decades, if not more. Standing at the small rock pillar, I looked around again, this time knowing what to look for. Sure enough, maybe twenty feet away, there was another neat stack of stones. I realized then that the stones had been carefully chosen - each pile was of the same type of stone. The first one had been all light-colored, the second pile all had a reddish tinge to them. I saw a third one ahead, which was mostly yellow. I'd never really thought of rocks having such different colors, I mean I knew they did, but my mental picture of rocks was always gray. These were so vivid...I wished I had color film with me, I'd have to come back another day.
The path was no longer as clear. As far as I could tell, there was still nothing growing on it, but the debris of dozens of autumns covered it as thickly as everything else in the woods. It seemed to be going generally in the direction I wanted, though it strayed a little farther from the creek than I'd planned to go, but I stayed on it out of curiosity. Anyway, it would be easy enough to retrace my steps if I needed to, and it was still pretty early in the afternoon. Gradually, I noticed that the plants growing nearby seemed to have been actually planted, rather than growing up on their own. It was hard to be sure, since everything had grown partially wild over the years, but they seemed to run mostly parallel to the path, providing an intermittent border. Many of them were in bloom, though I didn't know the name of much beyond some wild roses and daylilies. The trees seemed to be a little more spacious here, with larger patches of sunlight filtering down through the leaves overhead, though it may have only been the time of day. I was taking fewer pictures now, I was running low on film, and was too curious about where this path might be leading. I could walk more quickly here, since the path was almost perfectly level under the blanket of old leaves.
The ground gradually changed, sloping downward again instead of slightly up as it had been since I'd climbed up from the creek bed. My sense of direction was a little foggy now, having been focusing on the path instead of the rough map I kept in my head of the area. But I could hear the water not far away, I must have curved around closer to the creek again? The flowers alongside the path looked larger than they had before, the low wall they made between the rock piles was more intact than it had been before. A large magnolia tree leaned over the path, the last few flowers of the season clinging to its branches. I realized that the large trees had definitely thinned out, the sunlight was barely interrupted by overhanging leaves, and it felt hot on my shoulders. My heart beat picked up, I knew I had to be getting close to wherever it was the path was leading. I wanted to hurry, but forced myself to slow down, looking more carefully now for signs of habitation, for something that would tell me I was wandering into somebody's yard uninvited. It was so hard to tell, there seemed to be more cultivated plants, more decorative trees, but they didn't look like they had been tended for ages, everything was overgrown and spilling over the path and ragged around the edges...
I decided to head back away from the lake, I'd save the lake for a separate trip. There would be plenty to spot from here back to the road, and then the house. I found a shallow portion of the creek, and stepped carefully from dry rock to mostly-dry rock across the water, soon reaching the broader sheets of dry rock at the edge of the water. I backtracked a little way, and found the path I'd seen.
It really was a path. I shouldn't really have been surprised to find one, I wasn't going to be the only person who ever wanted to walk along a stream, but what did surprise me was the path itself. Small shrubs and tall grasses obscured it a bit, the new year's growth obviously having not been disturbed much this early in the season, but the path was still clearly marked - there was a slab of perfectly rectangular stone set at the base of it, just above where I thought the spring waterline would be, and there were small, half-buried stones set in a distinct dotted line along the sides, leading up the slope. I hadn't seen the smaller stones at first, due to the underbrush and some being covered in soil and debris, but now that I had seen a few, I could see many more, apparently lining the path all the way up. I worried that I might be stumbling into someone's back yard...but I hadn't seen any "no trespassing" signs, so whoever's path this was, they must not mind visitors. Still, I kept my eyes open for any of the threatening notices posted to trees, maybe I'd just missed some while in the creek.
I crouched down low to the damp ground, angling the camera to try to get both the base stone and some of the smaller ones into a shot, but it was difficult with the angle of the hill and the amount of brush. I made my way up the slope, looking all the time for warning signs of other people having been there recently, but for all its clarity, it didn't look like the path had been used in ages. I was constantly ducking under branches and stepping over grasping plants - some of which were large enough to make me think they hadn't been cut back in years. A few times I thought I'd have to find another path, the tangle of vines and wild rose branches were so dense from about waist-height upwards. I couldn't figure it out, though, how could it be this overgrown, and yet there be nothing at all growing out of the ground that made up the path? Unless it was really little kids, or maybe animals, that walked this route...but no, they wouldn't have the weight to trample things out this thoroughly, and either one of those would use the path intermittently, I couldn't think of any reason for it to be traveled on such a constant basis to keep all plant life down. I supposed there must be some sort of weed-killer ground into the soil or something, or maybe a sewer line or something ran under it? That would explain why it would need to be marked out...but if it were in use, it would be way beyond illegal to have it run down to the creek, and if it were old, the damage wouldn't run in this straight of a line, it would surely have leaked out to either side in places. I had no idea.
When I reached the top, I thought I'd lost the path - the lines of small stones I'd been following disappeared from sight a few feet ahead. I couldn't blame the undergrowth here, now that I was back up among the larger trees, the ground was clearer, all of the small stuff not able to get enough light or nutrients under the shade of the big trees. I turned back and tried a few shots of the stone-lined path down the hill, which worked a little better than the ones I'd tried taking in the other direction. Straightening up, I looked out into the woods, scanning my eyes slowly around. Maybe it was just a trail down to the water, to mark out the one good place to make it down the slope... but there were no houses in sight from where I now stood, no sign of civilization at all.
Or maybe---
I walked quickly over to a small pile of rocks not far off, and then grinned broadly. It was a neatly stacked column of several stones, obviously man-made, and apparently having been there for a very long time. I wondered vaguely who it was that had used the same type of marker as the boys, only long ago... but they must have learned it from someone, it seemed to be a pretty effective way of marking things, if the stones could be made to stay in place that well for probably decades, if not more. Standing at the small rock pillar, I looked around again, this time knowing what to look for. Sure enough, maybe twenty feet away, there was another neat stack of stones. I realized then that the stones had been carefully chosen - each pile was of the same type of stone. The first one had been all light-colored, the second pile all had a reddish tinge to them. I saw a third one ahead, which was mostly yellow. I'd never really thought of rocks having such different colors, I mean I knew they did, but my mental picture of rocks was always gray. These were so vivid...I wished I had color film with me, I'd have to come back another day.
The path was no longer as clear. As far as I could tell, there was still nothing growing on it, but the debris of dozens of autumns covered it as thickly as everything else in the woods. It seemed to be going generally in the direction I wanted, though it strayed a little farther from the creek than I'd planned to go, but I stayed on it out of curiosity. Anyway, it would be easy enough to retrace my steps if I needed to, and it was still pretty early in the afternoon. Gradually, I noticed that the plants growing nearby seemed to have been actually planted, rather than growing up on their own. It was hard to be sure, since everything had grown partially wild over the years, but they seemed to run mostly parallel to the path, providing an intermittent border. Many of them were in bloom, though I didn't know the name of much beyond some wild roses and daylilies. The trees seemed to be a little more spacious here, with larger patches of sunlight filtering down through the leaves overhead, though it may have only been the time of day. I was taking fewer pictures now, I was running low on film, and was too curious about where this path might be leading. I could walk more quickly here, since the path was almost perfectly level under the blanket of old leaves.
The ground gradually changed, sloping downward again instead of slightly up as it had been since I'd climbed up from the creek bed. My sense of direction was a little foggy now, having been focusing on the path instead of the rough map I kept in my head of the area. But I could hear the water not far away, I must have curved around closer to the creek again? The flowers alongside the path looked larger than they had before, the low wall they made between the rock piles was more intact than it had been before. A large magnolia tree leaned over the path, the last few flowers of the season clinging to its branches. I realized that the large trees had definitely thinned out, the sunlight was barely interrupted by overhanging leaves, and it felt hot on my shoulders. My heart beat picked up, I knew I had to be getting close to wherever it was the path was leading. I wanted to hurry, but forced myself to slow down, looking more carefully now for signs of habitation, for something that would tell me I was wandering into somebody's yard uninvited. It was so hard to tell, there seemed to be more cultivated plants, more decorative trees, but they didn't look like they had been tended for ages, everything was overgrown and spilling over the path and ragged around the edges...
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