LETTERS 

"The house was in a meadow of yellow flowers with the sound of a mountain stream constantly in the background. After awhile that, the sound, dissolved into the flow of voices. If I listened specifically I could hear the pattern of flow over the rocks, over itself as it cut behind a long row of pine trees.

I was brought up the road by a strange giant of a man who turned out to be a kindly nut. When we approached the house I saw a group of three people by the side. They were discussing anything imaginable. Then there was sudden laughter. One young man had thrown his head back and the other two turned away with faint smiles.

The house was old. There were rusty implements hung from one side. The wood looked original. The whole house was built on blocks several feet off the ground and I learned later that was because of the proliferation of snakes in the area. One day I knelt down and peered under the house and saw the glint of old, dried snake skins laying askew over themselves.

It was in a meadow and surrounding the meadow were two cultivated fields. Out of one was flourishing corn stalks.

Soon enough two dogs came up and started barking and yapping at me until the big man told them to, 'git git' and the dogs scampered wildly around me and then disappeared behind the house. The barking had brought people out and they stood and watched as the man they called Bear and I made our way up the path toward the entrance to the house. It was at this moment, my friend, that I lost all sense of the mountain beauty, its water and spectral hot sun bleeding through everything. No, I was preparing myself to explain why I was wondering around on their property."

David Eide
January 24, 2000
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