Brother Bill Holston has sent us another dispatch. In this short ditty, you can decided for yourself if his solitary walks in the woods are slowly driving him insane.
Singing in Silence
By Bill Holston
Oh, I’m bein’ followed by a moonshadow, moonshadow, moonshadow
Leapin and hoppin’ on a moonshadow, moonshadow, moonshadow
— Cat Stevens
I had an old stereo in high school Well, it wasn’t old then. It was one of those turntables that you’d stack 5 albums on, and they’d play in succession. Yeah, albums. I started many mornings listening to Cat Stevens (or as he is now known, Yusuf Islam). I’d put on Catch Bull and Four and turn up “Can’t Keep It In” as lout as it would play. It kind of got me going in those days before I drank coffee. It’s also one of the reasons I have to ask you to repeat yourself if you’re trying to talk to me. That, and a couple of Black Angels shows I took my son Fred to. One of my favorite Cat Stevens songs is “Moon Shadow.” But I’ll get to that in a minute.
I had a meeting in North Dallas Tuesday evening and decided to get a walk in at the Spring Creek Nature Area in Richardson. I love this spot and have written about it before. I return to the place because it’s a different experience each time. I’ve walked in 11 inches of snow there, across summer scalded grass, and through beds of wildflowers.
While most of this 50-acre preserve has paved trails, there are some terrific dirt trails that meander among the mixed Ashe Juniper and Eastern Red Cedar. There are some towering old Chinquapin and Bur Oaks in the creek bottoms as well. I got to the trailhead about 5:15 and parked at the small parking area on the corner of Renner Road and Central Expressway. I walked along the paved trail, admiring the tall Eve’s Necklace that line the walk. It’s a beautiful and underappreciated understory tree. The trail crosses under the DART tracks and then passes through a lovely cedar elm and bois d’arc wood. The trail follows the meanders of Spring Creek, a beautiful clear creek, which eventually flows into Rowlett Creek, Lake Ray Hubbard, the East Fork of the Trinity, and the Gulf of Mexico. But on that day, the waters flowed gently over a limestone streambed under the changing color of Ash and Cedar Elm.
I left the paved trail and followed a clear dirt trail through the Ashe Juniper. The forest floor was filled with Virginia Wild Rye, covered with seed. I paused on a bluff, watching the almost full moon in the east. I walked along the trail, admiring the fall color or the Virginia Creeper vine across the stream. The Ash trees were beautiful shades of yellow, and the smaller Shumard Oaks were brilliant red. The trail eventually follows a smaller stream. It must be spring fed, as it is always flowing clear over limestone. The sound of the water flowing over limestone is tonic at the end of the day. I followed the trail past an old remnant prairie. It was filled with wildflowers this spring: Horse Mint, Milkweed, Sunflowers, Purple Cone Flowers Basket Flower, Firewheel and Prairie Clover. This summer part of the prairie burned, but it’s sprouting green from the recent rains. I’ll be interested to see if the fire had a positive impact next spring.
I crossed the prairie, listening to cardinal’s call in the woods. Eventually I joined an old ranch road, deeply rutted. “Here is your road, beginningless and endless as God,” Wallace Berry wrote about a country road in A Native Hill. It was still and cool, perfect for an evening walk. I crossed another small steam, which also flowed all year long. I paused for a moment and made my way to the grave of Jacob Routh. He settled this area in 1850, and his and his wife’s graves are in these woods. It was dark now, and the moon had made its way to illuminate the night. I sat in silence. I usually break out the Psalms and read here, but it was dark already so I just sat and watched and listened. I was struck by what an absolutely beautiful spot this was. I was sitting on a 30-foot bluff above a beautiful stream.
I smiled as I noticed the patterns of light skipping playfully across the small rapid just below the 30-foot bluff. I sat for a long time just watching the patterns of light. It’s the closest I get to a pure spiritual moment. Watching the splendid bright patterns of nature, I saw perfect reflections of beauty, which brought me to tears. The distance between me, the creation, and G-d all narrowed to an imperceptible gap.
I sat and listened to the flow of water below. More Wallace Berry: “There is indeed a music in streams, but it is not for the hurried. It has to be loitered by and imagined. …. The music of the streams is the music of the shaping of the earth, by which the rocks are pushed and shifted downward toward the level of the sea.”
so I sat in complete silence, only the sound of the water carving slowly through the limestone in its incessant path to the sea. I stood up, realizing I needed to start walking to the car. And then I saw it. My shadow, cast on the damp earth by the light of the almost full moon. I laughed right out loud. Then I sang:
And if I ever lose my eyes,
if my colours all run dry,
Yes if I ever lose my eyes,
oh if….
I won’t have to cry no more.
