Tessentee, NC
It is now dusk on the first night at my new location at Outward Bound. Four people are playing guitar, one harmonica, one penny whistle, and a mandolin. They are playing "Blues" with OB-type lyrics, attesting to the gripes that crews of past have endured.
I was wishing I played an instrument, but alas, mine is simply a gift of another kind. Mine is the gift to move pen on paper and set thoughts free for all to see who take interest:
Much of the fervor of playing that existed earlier in the evening has faded away now. There are but a few spurious notes here and there from a mandolin, and the chatter of voices discussing various things of no great import.
The light of dusk is fading into nothingness, and peeper frogs are beginning to claim their place in the sounds of night.
Staring onto the porch, faces fade into silhouettes, and shadows lengthen from the light within the cabin. This camp is to be my residence for the next few months… Green Cove shall indeed be my home.
Copyright (C), 1998, by Ashley Guberman
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