CAROLYN'S COMPOSITIONS

August 16, 2008

RAINBOW’S END Conclusion

CAROLYN’S COMPOSITIONS
RAINBOW’S END Conclusion

To read previous segments click on: RAINBOW’S END Part 1 &  RAINBOW’S END Part 2 & RAINBOW’S END Part 3

     Rushing Waters tipped his cup, lightly sipping its contents. As his pain abated, he laid back, thinking about several European men whose spirit, like his, was moved by Mountain-Laurel.

     In 1749 he’d met Peter Kalm, from a country named Sweden across the big waters. Peter favored (more…)

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August 13, 2008

RAINBOW’S END Part 3

CAROLYN’S COMPOSITIONS

RAINBOW’S END Part 3

To read previous parts of Rainbow’s End click: RAINBOW’S END Part 1 and/or RAINBOW’S END Part 2

     He separated from the others, who continued their journey without him. He could follow the rough path later. Lowering himself onto soft pine needles, he saw a stunning stand of Mountain-Laurel under a nearby canopy of maple leaves. He sipped a small cup of weak tea to sooth his body, sore from the trek. Refreshed, he lit his pipe before symbolically depositing his pain in the thick, unpassable Mountain-Laurel branches and inhaling hope from the slight scent of a myriad of blossoms. Watching the smoke swirl upwards, he saw visions (more…)

August 11, 2008

RAINBOW’S END Part 2

CAROLYN’S COMPOSITIONS
RAINBOW’S END Part 2

To read Part 1 of Rainbow’s End click: RAINBOW’S END Part 1

    Although Rushing Waters never again tried to eat Mountain-Laurel leaves he did discover the joy of climbing the crooked, twisted plant trunks. He sought out shrubs less tangled than the one he had attempted to crawl through at age two, and discovered he should bypass the shrub’s dark brown red-tinged flaky rough bark in favor of the newer stems with their smoother, rather fuzzy bark. One day in his fourth summer, when he climbed an older stem, its brittle branch (more…)

August 10, 2008

RAINBOW’S END Part 1

CAROLYN’S COMPOSITIONS
RAINBOW’S END Part 1

     Rushing Waters hobbled away from the fire, stumbling occasionally as sweat prevented his wrinkled hand from grasping a walking stick. Although he took care not to lose water from the cup he held in his other hand, sporadic droplets spilled onto the rich soil or escaped to moisten one of the many rocks cropping up from the pits of the land.

     From the fire to the oak tree roots was only twenty paces. This distance would have meant nothing to his former strong muscles, but now…now, in his fortieth spring, he wondered (more…)

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