Hello readers,
Here is one of mine; I hope you like it. It is included in my book titled, Volume II - The Current Verses.
A Symphony In Motion
By Francine Olivier Wilson
Off we go in our silver sedan, driving early
on a day in fall. Our destination is
simply to wherever we end up. We are
surrounded, on this journey, by a constant flux of energy assailing the senses
in countless ways. The sound of the
rustling leaves, as they struggle against the wind, on their branches. Each on an adventure, all its own, during a
very brief life cycle. Their flight
through the wind creating a swirling pallet of browns, reds, oranges and
yellows. Color blends that are both
unique in any given moment yet consistent in their turbulent motion anywhere
you look. We decide to drive onto route
2 west. The leaves soaring up and
falling down; changing courses then round and round.
When beginning a journey along
Massachusetts’ route 2, heading west, one takes a journey through time as well
as in distance. Trees to their foliage
and wheels for man; our car taking us into a future. Evidence of man’s history can be seen along
the slopes and curves of the road formerly known as the Mohawk Trail.
Starting
with the city of Boston and its culture of baked beans and revolutionary
history, skyscrapers sit side by side with some of the oldest buildings and
streets in the United States. We drive a short distance and cross over the
Technological Highway that is route 128: an area similar to Silicon Valley,
where companies of every sort can be seen in multitude. Like foliage to seasons; so too, business to
the economy of their time. The leaves
soaring up and falling down; changing courses then round and round.
The ‘shot heard around the world’ took place
minutes away from our location. One can
almost hear Paul Revere yelling, "The regulars are coming!" We drive by an original, restored, homestead
on our right. I find myself wondering
what life must have been like for these colonists. We drive by a regimen of approximately 14 men
walking, with drum and muskets, dressed in period clothing that were not in
uniforms. With powder horns at the
ready, they follow their leader who is riding on horseback and carrying a
sword. As they are led into their
future, our past is seen.
Driving into the Metro West area with its
many software companies and state-of-art hospitals, we drive along the historic
Battle Road in Lexington and Concord. We
drive by more men in period clothing but these are soldiers led by officers in
uniform on white horses. They head towards the battle grounds of the
past on this windy chilly day. The
leaves soaring up and falling down; changing courses then round and round.
Driving into north central Massachusetts we notice business gives way to
agriculture and State Forests. Family
farms, like tribal villages of the past, can be seen along the valleys and hill
sides. Lakes surrounded by small towns
and villages with churches appear along the countryside. Craftsmen, of everything from glass works to making
furniture, sell their wares. Each of whom is timeless in their trade but unique
in their creativity. Deer and moose
living in the wilds can be seen occasionally along the road side. Though are driven by instinct they remain masters
of adaptation in terms of their daily existence.
Driving further, we pass by the historic Salmon Falls of Shelburne. Once a salmon fishing center of Native
American tribes, this is a naturally formed white water region of the Deerfield
River. Glacial potholes and the salmon
and shad spawning grounds can still be seen even though the fishing is nowhere
near what it used to be. A fish ladder
still exists as part of a dam. Arrowheads
can still be found occasionally in the ground.
The leaves soaring up and falling down; changing courses then round and
round.
Driving into the Berkshires, Massachusetts changes its cultural flavor
yet again! Small modern ski hills and
scenic vistas become prevalent. Communities
are joined by hiking and snow mobile trails and country roads. Fishermen, hunters and wild life enthusiasts
alike find an endless source of adventure.
Artists and photographers find inspiration to learn and create. Bright yellow maple leaves rustling; our car
goes driving by.
On this particular weekend ride, inspired by the foliage and energy of
the new season we decided to try to ride off the main road and into the hills;
fueled by the illusive hope of seeing and possibly getting a picture of a
moose. We switch off the GPS and simply
followed the energy. We find ourselves
in a quiet rural setting near Greenfield.
We see a small white cottage along the big river and a narrow road just
barely large enough to allow two cars to sit side by side. It is here that we meet a new acquaintance. The leaves soaring up and falling down;
changing courses then round and round.
We meet a man
sitting quietly on a chair near his truck; a painter, who resides in
Greenfield. When asked what he likes to paint,
he replied, ‘energy’. Having never
studied art, I eagerly ask him to explain his source of inspiration. He pointed to a massive tree nearby who’s
massive leaves could be seen peppering the ground around us. He said, “that is the oldest Sycamore tree in
the region. All of these other sycamore
trees are its babies or offspring."
This tree is immense! He then
went on to mention how he had studied art a long time ago but had recently
changed his views on art in general. He
said he had to make an effort to put aside his training and follow the vibe of
his own creativity.
He was painting
the cottage initially but had decided to stop and paint a canvas instead. Inspired by the energy, he said he could
almost tangibly feel, from this location and the tree. These feelings and our chance meeting enforcing
his philosophy of ‘all energies connecting.’ I found this intriguing. Like this old tree that produced hundreds of
seasons of leaves, he had painted many canvases. Leaves to tree, canvases to artist or journeys
to passenger; all energies in motion.
Energy in one instance of time converging to form creations all their
own. Driven by fate; we stopped here by
chance and met a truly inspiring individual.
The leaves soared up and then fell down; they changed their course then
stayed around.
©
2019, Francine Olivier Wilson, “All Rights Reserved"
