Monday, July 21, 2014

The Canyon is Calling

We recently spent an absolutely gorgeous afternoon in one of our favorite places. The Tony Grove Lake trail is one of our go-to spots to escape the heat of the valley.  We took a leisurely stroll around the lake, shared a picnic, threw rocks in the water and replenished our souls for the week ahead.

 Every time we venture there I am reminded of a poem written by my great-great Grandma.  Her book of poetry is among my most prized possessions; it's among the few things I would run back into a burning building to retrieve.  On countless occasions I have paged through her book and found just the words I needed to hear written many, many years ago by a woman I've never met.

The canyon is calling with soothing refrain;
The valley is seething with heat.
The young of the forest are roving again
in the depths of their mountain retreat.

I long to rest there in the shade of the trees
And drink from the brooklet so cool,
With mind and with heart as completely at ease
As lilies that float on the pool.

The song of a thrush and the whiff of perfume
Caught up by a zephyr of air
Would bring me respite from the heat and the gloom,
I long, how I long to be there.

The canyon is calling with wild luring strain;
A chant that the wood fairies know.
I cannot ignore it, resistance is vain
The canyon is calling, I go.

--Hannah Cropper Ashby 
(my great-great Grandma!)

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