Ralph Considers Who Goes There

 

A true view of the Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest.

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            Sometimes Ralph just walks around thinking. Many times, these excursions include Maeve, his philosophical confidant. It’s helpful to have a philosophical confidant, when pondering the world and all the infinite possibilities therein.
            It was the end of summer and the whole forest was feeling a bit worn. Maybe everyone had had enough sunshine. It never gets really hot in the Great Forest, but it gets warm, persistently warm. There is almost a sound to it. Insects, yeah, but maybe another sort of hum.
            There is a resinous scent to the heated air. The forest duff when tossed by a listless toe smells faintly of another season, the season of mist, moss, and that ineffable slightly moldy smell of the PNW old growth forest.
            As Ralph paced the familiar forest trails, his toe did rumple the forest floor, as if ascertaining its identity. Ralph had a touch of the blues.
            “What’s up, Boss?” said Maeve, from his shoulder. She was feeling her age and the turn of the year some herself. Daytime fliers notice the shortening of the light.
            “What? My mind was somewhere else, Maevie,” said Ralph.
            “You’re being very quiet, Boss. It’s not like you,” said the big black bird.
            “You know I can kind of hear what the people say, if I pay attention. It’s like a sea of thought lapping at my mind. Most of the time I ignore it. But I keep hearing a thing. It sounds silly, but I hear it a lot,” said he.
            “That’s terrible,” said Maeve.
            “Oh most of the time it’s like hearing those bugs out there buzzing away. It’s just a buzz. But, coming clearly out of the buzz, I hear ‘who goes there?’ I think they’re talking about me, or someone like me. Their ideas are such a hodgepodge of fears and desires! What to do?” cried Ralph.
            “Do you have to do anything about it?” said Maeve.
            “I’d like to get above it for a while. I’m sure something would come to me,” he said.
            “What I do is go up over the tops of the trees, way way up, where I can see everything,” said Maeve. “It’s all quite small from up there.”
            “Can you see everything below the tree tops too, Maeve?” asked Ralph, with a glimmer of hope being born in his mind.
            “Yes, Ralph, I can. Would you like to come with me,” said Maeve.

             “Can I?” he said.
            “Of course you can. I will give you one of my pinions to hold!” she said.
            With that, Maeve chose one of her strongest flight feathers and she plucked it out, handing it to the King of the Great Forest. It was a good nine inches long, strong, shiny and deepest black, the very soul of flight!
            Maeve lifted up off of Ralph’s shoulder and took a couple of loops around in the sleepy warm air.
            “Come on, Ralph. Come up!” she shouted.
            So, holding the big black feather Ralph became aloft. He followed Maeve up a bit, grinning like a kid having the best adventure he could imagine, and in real time.
            Maeve flew as slowly as she could, just barely staying airborne. Ralph just followed along.
            Up and up they went. They flew among the mighty trunks, and then burst through the canopy of fir branches, out into the massive blue of the late summer sky.
            At first when Ralph looked down all he could see were the tops of the multitudes of trees.
            “How do you bear it, Maeve? It’s overwhelming. It’s beautiful. It’s the land rolling on and on forever!” he sang out.
            “I’m a creature of this world, is how I bear it. But it is beautiful,” said Maeve. “Look down now!”
            Holding his feather, Ralph looked down. Through a break in the masses of trees he could see the Home Clearing as he had never seen it before. So small. So beloved. So perfectly just what it was.
            He saw the stone cliff wall with the green door built into it, and beside it  he saw the stone circle where Ramona kept the fire burning.
            He saw Ramona herself, grace in flesh, holding Cherry, and Blue crouched at their feet. He saw two great tawny cats lolling about the clearing like cats anywhere, indolent and sleepy! He saw his son, Twigg bringing in a pair of turkeys for his mother, and her happily receiving them.
            He saw the meadow, and Uncle Bob’s Stump House, and indeed, Uncle Bob and Aunt Suzy relaxing by their fire.

            A little further on, looking over toward the road, he saw Thaga and Ooog's tiny plantation, the rough slate roof of their stone house, the late summer garden, and even Ooog out there digging potatoes.
            He saw the river flowing westward to the bay in the distance. There was just a bit of Milltown over that way too.

            He saw the whole Cascade Mountain range.
            He saw the curve of the earth, the vault of the sky, and the nearest star over it all.
            “You see this every day, Maeve!” shouted Ralph, enraptured.
            “I do!” she called out.
            “Now, tell me, Ralph. Who goes there?” said Maeve. “Surely you know!”
            “I do! I do! I go there!,” said Ralph.
            “Yes, you do! Now we better get back down before Cherry sees us, and tries to join us!” said Maeve.
            So, as gently as they had gone up, they went down, drifting softly down through the forest canopy, down among the trunks, and landing in the general area of the big cedar log.
            After Ralph sat there breathing for a few minutes, to settle down, he said, “May I keep the feather, Maeve?”
            “Of course, Boss. It’s your feather, to remind you,” said Maeve.
            “I will never forget,” said Ralph.
            “Evermore,” said Maeve, because she couldn’t help herself!

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