Once upon a time, the Boy and I walked in cool shadows and warm sunshine on a day before the hard cold arrived, over sharp hills and foot bridges, past a bubbling spring and under great outcroppings of rock that drew his full attention. It was a good start to a New Year that lies now long ago.
“This is beautiful,” the Boy had said, and it made my heart glad. I wanted already to take him someday to see big mountains and walk deep canyons, to camp under skies unmarred for miles by the cast-off electric glow of even the smallest of towns, what astronomers term “light pollution,” to see the Milky Way paint the night sky from one horizon to the next with a brilliance so dazzling it’s hard to believe it could be silent. But there were wonderful sights in smaller scale closer to home, close enough for a Saturday afternoon drive to offer all the walking we’d want in those days, and it was important to me and my future plans that he liked it of his own accord. I hadn’t told him what to look for or hinted what we’d find. When we came to the stone outcroppings on the side of a Tishomingo County hill he exclaimed of his own wonder and let his imagination fly.
“Is this where outlaws hid in the pioneer days?” he asked, and I said it was. We were on one of the handy trails at Tishomingo State Park, one that lies just across the cable bridge that crosses Bear Creek. It’s easy enough for most anyone, yet it’s a lowland sample of the many trails that crisscross the Smokies. But this one is just up the Natchez Trace about an hour away.
Archeologists have found evidence of humans living on the land encompassed by Tishomingo State Park as long ago as 7000 B.C., and it’s easy to see why. The appeal of mountains and rivers is not an invention of modern real estate men, it’s a draw as old as mankind. The time that’s passed since the earliest human footprints were laid there is scarcely a hiccup on the geologic scale, so yes, when both prehistoric man, not to mention outlaws from the pioneer days, stood beneath the bluffs and drank from the springs and watched the strong river roll by, it looked very much like it does at this minute.
In his pocket the Boy had an empty plastic capsule of the sort grocery store vending machines use to sell choking hazards. He had me open and close it a dozen times as he added sand or removed leaves, small souvenirs for his backpack. We’re good about taking only pictures and leaving only footprints, but the loose earth and plant matter he picked up was certain to rot or wash away sooner than later. Being carried in plastic to a small boy’s room a little further downstream to inspire adventures yet to be had seemed an acceptable diversion.
Along the trail, we had a stern talk about good behavior and general recklessness and how he was then not grown yet — if he were to hardheadedly plunge off the edge of a sandstone bluff, we’d both be in deep trouble — and as we walked further he digested this and added it to the shelves of his mind. Some lessons are better taught outdoors, if only because the solitude allows young pride to heal where only the trees can see.
Time and silence and a long walk away from distraction can heal adult worries, too. God is with us always, but in these places it’s much easier to hear Him. It’s a timeless peace, found where hills stand sentry over valleys, where waters run deep and crows light high atop pines. It’s available anywhere the quiet can be heard.
Kevin Tate is the outdoors writer for the Northeast Mississippi Daily Journal.
You can help your community
Quality, in-depth journalism is essential to a healthy community. The Dispatch brings you the most complete reporting and insightful commentary in the Golden Triangle, but we need your help to continue our efforts. In the past week, our reporters have posted 24 articles to cdispatch.com. Please consider subscribing to our website for only $2.30 per week to help support local journalism and our community.
You can help your community
Quality, in-depth journalism is essential to a healthy community. The Dispatch brings you the most complete reporting and insightful commentary in the Golden Triangle, but we need your help to continue our efforts. In the past week, our reporters have posted 24 articles to cdispatch.com. Please consider subscribing to our website for only $2.30 per week to help support local journalism and our community.
