Time To Grow

I flew back to Kerrville I had a morning class and I wanted at least 6 hours of sleep. I marveled at the beauty of the hill country on a slightly chilly night that was clear. I could see San Antonio way to the east-southeast I could see the map of the hill country. There was peace nothing on the radio no one else in the sky but me. I called I looked landed straight in runway three zero almost hating to land want the flight to go on for eternity.  I then realized I could see the sky again my heart could see and the beauty was like a G-chord struck on a Les Paul the whole guitar vibrated with the note.

After that morning's class I finally gave into my yearning to go exploring again on campus. I wanted to get the low down on the bogus adventure of the baseball team as they were busted as a result of their Halloween scavenger hunt. The bust took place at the graveyard that was just across and behind the creek from campus. I had gone fishing on the southern border of campus with the Gaudalupe River in the fall so I had a rough idea how to get there. I put on my sweatshirt wool socks and an old pair of combat boots I wore when I was in the Civil Air Patrol.

I went out the side door of Delaney heading to the creek. I got to the bridge and I found a small series of steps within the dirt that took me to the shore right besides the creek and instead of heading south to the river I headed north. The first thing I noticed was the water flowing freely and clear. The rains and cold weather had allowed dissolved oxygen counts to rise and the creek to be cleared out of the usual agents of euthrouphication animal wastes, by products from poorly designed septic systems and fertilizer runoff. Gone were the choking masses of algae that serve to suffocate the water as well as mucking it up turning it various shades of green. There was a good sized pool and I could clearly see a couple small large mouth bass no greater then a pound or so along with a school of sunfish one of the fish much larger than the bass near the surface. The bottom was both gravel and mud with some algae growing. I saw a couple minnows in it as well. I made note of the hole for me to fish later. I looked up and I saw the cliffs that I stood upon behind Delaney. It struck me as a cathedral. I was hit by the majesty of the place it was there but not many people cared to see it. The scene was serene blue sky, flowing creek, and rock cliff. There was a peace in the air so tangible. I knew I was in a thermal and I decided to ride it. I had seen my Father's creation it was good. I walked along a very narrow deer trail besides the creek bordered by the cliffs. The deep hole became shallow and soon the creek was flowing in a limestone channel. I could see the texture of the rock below the six inches of the water. Quinlean creek was brought back to her glory days. She was a thing of beauty clear water flowing steadily white gray and tan rock through a parched land. She was looking much the way she did when Comanche stopped by and when the Alsatians first settled the land. I continued ducking low tree limbs along the very narrow path that doe and bucks used. I wondered how long it had been since a human had been besides the trail. The progress was slow but I was grinning from ear to ear as I got dirty. It was barely wide enough for both my feet and my right side was rubbing against the cliffs and my left side scraping some underbrush. The trail subsided and I was soon in a slightly wider spot in the little canyon. I was walking no wet sand now. A disturbed school of sunfish darted over the ten yards to the safety of the deep hole. I hugged a huge cypress tree as I walked around it on its big roots that rode into the creek drawing life-giving water from it. I continued the sharp canyon had ended along with a discernable deer trail. I was now crisscrossing the creek on small gravel islands and rocks within the underbrush. I saw motion in front of me then suddenly it darted an eight point buck probably wondering what on earth a human was doing down here. I was scared for a brief moment deer have been known to charge humans on occasion. It was huge muscular I could see his muscles fire beneath his light brown furry skin. It was a thing utterly spectacular beauty as it darted to the cemetery at full speed. I was now grinning from ear to ear. The moment was fleeting but in those few seconds I saw muscles pump beneath the skin as the deer sprinted across the creek through the underbrush. I heard the sound of hooves on limestone a short series low pitched clops machine gun like but deep. I continued the only sounds that could be heard was the flow of the creek and sounds of my footsteps in a world seemingly so far removed from the city it was in. There was a calm peace serenity and beauty as the clear water flowed over the sand and limestone in amongst the persimmon cypress, mountain laurel and cedars. My heart was picking up on a lazy backbeat as saw a few birds and couple fish in another deeper hole in the creek. My brain had picked up on it and now I was aware almost hyper aware of my surroundings as I joined in it was the beat of God my father creating life and destroying it altering the course of the creek as he saw fit. It was of him and by him.

I made it to the campus I had once raced through my freshman year as cross-country runner for the New Braunfels Unicorns. I was happy and I made note to do it again and to be mindful of the wonder that was around me. I had a poem to write for my freshman comp class so I headed to the computer lab with what I had seen deep within my heart.

Clearwater flowing softly and free

over gravel sand and limestone

Cliffs jutting out of the small narrow valley

Bass sunfish swimming in deep pools of fresh water

Cedars, Persimmon, Mountain Laurel and Cypress

A six point buck darting across the clop of hooves over rock and water

The lean muscle smooth fluid action visible beneath the skin

Life itself being made fresh life itself flowing on an early spring day

A breath brings to the nose sweet Mountain Laurel

All within three hundred feet of the SC Loop

As I wrote it out I smiled realizing that those trips had to continue. I realized for the first time I was home in paradise I had to drink deep from the spring for my time in paradise would surely come to a close. I had found a thermal and ridden it for a good fifteen thousand feet of free altitude.

I went back to the cafe. This time I took my guitar. I had learned first position somewhat and had fallen in love with the mellow side of the Strat. I plugged in my amp and started working on a song. The song was an adaptation to the poem I had written about Cabin 4 initiation. It came slowly quarter note quarter note eight-note eighth note eighth. I played around and what emerged was a rhythm guitar part that was basically modal in e. The rhythm guitar part screamed for a good lead guitar. I could hear it on top of it nothing much but a few chords with the back pickup selected could add the contrast sealing the mixed emotions I wanted to convey so badly. As for the sound quality of the rhythm with the tone turned all the way the down and front pickup selected the sound was that of jungle backbeat steady and clear primal yet holy. It was a song about something that was universal the transition from youth to adulthood and its bitter-sweetness. Donna liked it. "No Woman No Cry" it wasn't. It though was decent. A song was born it was the first of many that would be like a soundtrack to the café.