Mountains of Distraction

From behind the computer, I often look out over the terrace to the facing mountains.  This is my distraction when I can’t get anything done.  I daydream about most anything as the scene changes with the seasons.  Sometimes the mountains are covered in luscious green vegetation and other times I see ranging rivers swelled from the spring rains.  Right now, I see rocky outcrops peeking through bare trees and old footpaths covered with snow.  They leave white lines that jog up the mountain and then disappear.  These paths are rarely used today, but they were commonly used even a generation ago between mountain villages.

The age of our village is not certain, but it dates back at least 600 years. It was created by people who left the plain below to escape the plagues that ravaged the towns.  At that time, mountain dwellers were pretty hostile to newcomers for fear of what diseases they’d bring.  The footpaths were a way to get from one mountain town to the other without going down to the diseased plain.  Isolation was protection and the footpaths were taken by only those who knew them.

As the bird flies, the neighboring villages are not that far, just a few miles away; but to walk the paths between the villages would take all morning.  Then, of course, there was the return trip home.  Village parties filled the summer months and people were known not to leave until first light so the paths could be seen as they returned to take care of their livestock.  Marriages occurred between mountain villages and ancestors from these unions still remain.  These are the smaller parts of history that are still verbal and a run in with an old village inhabitant will confirm certain stories and conjure up new one.  It leaves a lot to the imagination, and perhaps is why I often find myself looking out towards them and not getting much done.