The Secret cd moved forward track by track up the mountain climb. Strong-hand on the steering wheel, Mimi managed with her free hand to rewind the sound recording to a quote by Prentice Mulford. She wished she could meet the New Age visionary over scones and coffee. She wondered what color his eyes were…or had been a hundred years ago! If she met him today, would she know his soul? Would he be as charming in person as his ideas presented? Or would he just be another strange little man? Would he answer her questions? Would he be above them, too busy and bothered? Up she flew, wondering so many things as she always did.
Mimi’s eyes traced a pair of steel cabled lift lines. The wires resembled strained strings on the neck of her daughter’s ukulele. In the off season, void snow and animation, the lift wires looked less magical, and as out of tune as Pearl’s squeaky brakes sounded. Mimi was intentionally careful to navigate the switchbacks. The road taken, like other trails she’d hiked lacked customary guardrails, revealing sleeveless shoulders and wild curves. Beautiful country.
Mimi’s eyes scanned ahead. Feeling one with the car, she drifted up the canyon climb bouncing from road to mind to unimproved. At last she arrived at the rock pocked and potholed trailhead. Grounded by sure knowledge of hidden power and promise, The Law of Attraction was bound to answer her command. It’s pull brought genie lamp wishes and smiles and kept here moving forward joyfully. At least the Universe would gift her another day of Summer Vacation in the mountains she loved.
Everything was soothing, green and serene on the pass. Pines standing perfectly uncontested and at dignified attention. A cool canyon breeze tickled her sun-licked shoulders as high meadow wildflowers nodded hailing orange and yellow Hellos. Even her friends, Blue Belle and Fairy Fountain grinned freely in the cool ebbing runoff. And so she sang along with them, offering a happy song of Springtime. Up she climbed a shady hill covered by a thick shag nettled carpet. The sharp welcome mat crunched under foot like breakfast All bran. She bowed to the grandeur of the great wise trees. But something was off with the pick of the day.
Suddenly, within the tree ring, a dreadful buzzzz arose. It zipped and nipped her ears and neck. The interruption ruined a perfect picnic spot and soured Aunt Martha’s mayonnaise. “Hoards of horseflies!” She swore. Why so many flies?!
Focus undeterred, Mimi went to setting red anchor straps around the lower snags and branches. She winced, injured in the anxious threading. Droplets rose forming red rivulets like store bought webbing that circled scraggly dead growth. She had been careful, but not careful enough in setting the hammock, air hugging wild trunks, cinching the clipped in system. She scraped her exposed arms as she swatted desperately. The skin dotted with blood. Fortunately the wound was minor and would clot in a few minutes after she took a wet wipe to it. Unfortunately the scent of blood would draw more flies.
She wasn’t sure how this would work out, or if she’d be able to read today. Too much distraction was the dispatch of killjoy deer flies. Oh Dear! She filed her chapter book between firm thighs, twisting and rolling the silky hammock around her as if in vitro, while balancing a cold drink in the crook of her arm.
Incognito. Yes, hidden well inside the blue green fabric legume. She sealed the fly trap shut, disallowing entry through the slit and flicked away the ones that landed on the outside. One by one she killed the flies that made it through. This was satisfying, but she doubted she could she keep this up, hold the seam and read as well. It was safe, but not so crisp inside as out in open air. She’d forfeited the heavenly view, and soon her arms and legs would cramp in holding tension.
No. It would be short lived with the pestilence. She read to the end of the chapter, then damned the Little Lost River, hoping things would improve more for a protagonist who couldn’t seem to see any more clearly than she through the dark and fuzz airspace inside the pod. Through cloudy reading glasses she could see a peripheral growing collection of dead deer flies on her sleeve. She had satisfyingly killed them. It was time to leave now, not because of the collection on her hoodie, but because she could no longer breath in the confined chrysalis.
In a moment, on the way back, she would see the Why of the flies. She’d think how sometimes small things left unattended can cause such angst and attract undesirable. Flies!!! It wasn’t the fault of the visiting dogs by any means. More so their human companions. Disgust swept over Mimi as she hiked by the buzzing throng. In passing she thought, There is no honor earned nor credit given to those who stoop to scoop poop. Should be though. How rude! Why can’t people do right by the way of the trail?! She skalked at human failure.
Mimi remembered her 18 year old, wayward niece. She had been reduced to work shoveling horse crap for the Summer. The job had been forced upon the girl and if she had occasion to see that youth again, she’d hug her and thank her. She was reminded also of a past read, and Beetle in The Midwife’s Apprentice. Even dung beetles will climb given half a chance, she thought. She hoped and prayed her niece would fight her way to the top and to something better than the life of a crack baby she’d come from. And in the noon day sun she counted all her blessings, flies or no flies.