Wednesday, January 11, 2006

Savage Meadows

The worst fall I ever took was in the middle of a mountain meadow. I'd sooner plunge from a cliff or be battered by storms than brush one more wild rose petal.

Don't be fooled, listen carefully to Latigo Flint now--despite meadows' gentle grandeur and beauty, they possess an incredible capacity for cruelty. See, meadows like to lull you with their rippling sway of lush grasses and wildflowers.
"Here you are safe." Meadows whisper through the silken throats of a thousand songbirds.
"Here there is joy." They say, and send out a family of rabbits to prove it.
"Take your woman to me," croons the meadow, "and I promise she'll love you more than yesterday."

Then the meadow makes sure to position the best looking trees around its rim, and directs the sun to shine through the leaves, casting the loveliest light there's ever been. Meadows often divide themselves with a stream, shallow enough to wade splashingly across, and meadows forbid leeches in their streams, only speckled trout and the greenest of moss.

But just when you think you're probably the happiest you've ever felt... the meadow tells your woman to leave you. Or sends a grizzly bear to eat your face off since there's nowhere to run away to. (Usually both.)

I don't know if you've ever had a woman leave, followed moments later by a grizzly bear eating your face off, but it's no fun at all. It tends to ruin your day. You're down on your knees in mud you hadn't noticed before, (goddamn sneaky meadow) asking her to reconsider, promising to change, and watching her pace quicken with every anguished word. Then she's gone and the clock starts ticking on minute one of ten thousand lonely hours.

You start mentally running through your options but can't even get past the first three: drink heavily for days, weeks, months--before noticing that a grizzly bear is lumbering toward you from the forest.

Then the grizzly bear eats your face off while the meadow laughs.

Ooh gunslingers hate meadows--boy do we ever. Give us a barren wasteland any day. At least a barren wasteland is up front and honest about how it plans to kill you; you certainly can't say the same for those wretched meadows.


At 3:20 AM, Blogger hategun said...

I don't know much about meadows, but I once lost a very dear friend to an herb garden.

If you think a grizzly attack is bad, you've never seen a man savaged by parsley.

One word: entrails.

At 5:35 AM, Blogger hen said...

Mice like meadows are also devious and despicable adversaries - I rue the day I ever trusted my life to one of those cruel, double-crossing little mother fuckers.

At 5:40 AM, Blogger hen said...

I should add that I have never had a my face eaten off by a grizzy but I am sure it was just a mis-understanding.

At 5:53 AM, Blogger Berlinbound said...

When I come across a meadow such as the one you described I usually think; bottle of burgundy, loaf of french bread, slab of cheese, roman catholic girl with more than two drinks to her favor ...

At 8:07 AM, Blogger Monkeypotpie said...

This is sage advice, Latigo. Meadows are one of mankind's most hated and devious adversaries. On a primeval level we can all hear the whispers, but most do not recognize them for what they are. Many a good man and marriage have been destroyed by these fiends...but we have since invented gasoline. And matches.

At 9:37 AM, Blogger MJ said...

Tualumne would never do this. No way. It WILL, however, stick permanent grass prickles into the weave of your sweater if you dare frolic.

At 1:08 PM, Blogger OldHorsetailSnake said...

Oh my yes. And watch out for the Alps. Even Ice Man was not safe in the Alps.

At 12:45 AM, Blogger Latigo Flint said...

I've seen it Hategun, I've seen it. For twelve years I'd managed to block out the day my dear friend, Craggy Bill ran afoul a rosemary shrub--not well enough it would seem, not well enough by half. (I'm going to drink now, don't wake me 'till I'm dead.)

I agree hen, and would just like to add yogurt to the list of things that cannot be trusted. Yogurt is very untrustworthy, I've never trusted yogurt.

And count yourself among the lucky hen. Having your face eaten off by a grizzly bear really isn't much fun at all. You tend to wish it hadn't happened.

Exactly Berlinbound--and that's precisely what the meadow wants you to think--then it makes your woman leave and sends a grizzly bear out to eat your face off. (I thought I made that clear.)

You and I think the same Monkeypotpie--I've burned so many goddamn meadows to the ground that there's an entire chapter in the Kyoto Protocol named after me.

Ah sweet MJ--but Tuolumne has done it... twice. And I carry the scars to prove it.

Ice Man was born to die Old Hoss, Ice Man was born to die. But you better believe he went down yodeling and made his mother proud.


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