dcHILLworks

by dc HILL – September 8, 1994

Once upon a time, three travelers happened to be walking the footpaths in a beautiful kingdom called Freeland. Each was out to seek his fortune and find his purpose in life. Freeland was a bountiful land and any traveler would not have problems in finding simple, nourishing food to eat along the way. The people of the countryside were a good, hardworking lot. They took pride in their farms and work, they often shared their good bounty with friends and strangers alike.

Now, Freeland’s pathways criss-crossed the beautiful land in an intricate maze. Every path would meet at a four way junction. Every crossing had no signs or directions of what lie ahead; so each traveler at the crossing had to survey the countryside and make one of three new choices to journey on. It came to pass, three travelers were approaching one particular crossway right in the middle of Freeland.

I.

The first traveler came from the east. His name was Thomas and he had been trudging along to the west for some time. He had dusty clothes and had not changed them recently. He seemed passive to the beauty of the country and hardly noticed the other pathway and with great indifference he kept walking west. The sun was approaching its noonday zenith and Thomas began to get hungry. Off in the distance was a pleasant farm with smoke rising from the kitchen chimney. When he arrived, the fresh smell of baking filled the barnyard. No one was around and Thomas’ greeting did not arouse anyone at the farm.

At the kitchen window were three freshly baked pies. Their new fragrance swirled about the barnyard int he most irresistible way. Thomas could not resist. He took one pie, hid it in his knapsack, and before he ran away, placed a silver coin on the sill with the hope that it would be payment enough for the pie.

Thomas traveled a half a league and came upon a dairy farm. He was thirsty and saw the dairyman feeding his cows. After greetings, Thomas asked if he might have milk to drink for his noonday meal.

“You may pay me for some fresh milk I’ve taken this morning. I also have some curdled milk in that can if you can stomach it.”

Thomas, being quite indifferent about which to drink took the curdled milk, and trod west once again. Off in the distance was a rise up a hill that held three groves of shady oak trees. There would be a perfect place for him to rest, eat his pie and refresh himself with drink. When he arrived, he went into the shade of the first grove of trees.

II.

The second traveler, Lucifer was his name, came upon the same cross-way from the south. Now Lucifer was a large proud man and was dressed in a stately manner. His small, beady eyes were quick and shrewd. He quickly took in all the activities that surrounded him. He could weigh his options and decide what actions to take that would be in his best interests. He decided to travel west, along the path that Thomas had taken.

Lucifer arrived at the first farmhouse and following his nose came upon the two remaining pies at the window. Seeing the farmyard empty, he stole both pies and the silver coin. He then slithered off unnoticed.

At the dairy farm, Lucifer was greeted warmly, just as Thomas had been by the jolly dairyman. When offered the choice of fresh or curdled milk, Lucifer declined and walked on to the pathway.

But later, when the dairyman went into the barn, Lucifer returned and stole milk from the containers found in the cool milkhouse spring. In doing so, he spoiled a lot of the milk that the dairyman had collected that morning.

Lucifer quickly left the scene, traveling west towards the hill with the three tree groves. Lucifer, feeling proud of his good fortune that day, decided to ascend and rest at the oak grove at the top of the hill. What better place could there be than at the top of the hill and looking down at all that he could see?

III.

The third traveler, Phinehas was his name, came down the lesser used path from the north. He was a tall, lean man dressed in a leather coat and leggings and carried all his possessions in a neat knapsack. His weather beaten face showed him to be a veteran traveler, well acquainted with the paths far beyond Freeland.

Upon arriving at the cross-way, Phinehas noticed the fresh footprints of the two previous travelers.  He often preferred companionship on the road so he turned west at a steady gait hoping to share time and words with his fellow travelers.

When Phinehas came upon the farm, he found an old woman sobbing at the kitchen doorstep. Comforting her, he learned her sad story.

“Today is the birthday of my triplet sons. I rose early and picked enough blueberries to make them each a pie — my surprise for when they returned from the fields. Some passerby must have seen them cooling on the window sill and stole them. What am I to do with so little time before they return?”

Phinehas, full of compassion came up with a ready solution.

“I will pick enough blueberries for your pies if you prepare the dough and stove for baking. There’s a berry patch just ripe for picking down by the meadow stream.”

So off went Phinehas. He returned within an hour with plenty of the biggest, ripest blueberries you could imagine. A smiling woman sang a lilting country song while she rolled the dough and made the pies. Well before the sons were due home, four golden brown pies emerged from her oven. They found a proud place to cool within the watchful eyes of their creator.

The woman and Phinehas spent pie cooling time engaged in conversation; they shared stories, and the tall traveler learned a lot about Freeland. The woman heard Phinehas’ tales about the mountains and the animals of the forest. When it was time, the old woman thanked Phinehas for his help, gave him the spare pie for his efforts and wished him well for the road.

The half league to the dairy farm was a pleasant jog for Phinehas. Upon arriving, he found a cursing mad dairyman at the milkhouse spring. When the dairyman saw Phinehas, he picked up his hayfork and yelled,

“Be off with you, you no good vagabond. I’ve had enough bad happenings today to last me a month.”

Now, Phinehas has a way with people. In low unthreatening tones, he was able to calm the dairyman and found out a previous traveler had ruined the milk stored in the spring. The two then struck up a conversation and working together, they cleaned up the mess. To cheer up the dairyman, Phinehas gave him half his pie. The grateful man, bowed his head and in low tones said,

“I have no sweet milk to offer in return, stranger. And I will not offer you curdled milk.”

Phinehas looked into the clear water bubbling up from the milkhouse spring and exclaimed,

“Your fine spring water is a nectar worthy of kings. Let me fill my canteen. It will quench my thirst when I dally for my noonday meal.”

A content Phinehas bid the dairyman good day and resumed his steady march to the west. After a short distance, he spied the hill with three shade groves. Seeing footsteps entering the first two, he decided to pass them by. It seemed more prudent to seek the protection and solitude shade of the third.

IV.

The afternoon heat became oppressive, making the journey a hardship for the travelers. Thomas entered the first grove and found an ancient oak to sit and lean against. He unpacked the pie and the curdled milk jar from his sack and took a deep draft of the liquid. It was sour, so much so, he could not drink it. Cursing his misfortune, he knocked the jar over. An angry kick sent his pie flying off into a nearby ravine. The pie smashed at the feet of a fortunate raccoon who began to consume it. Thomas witnessed the pie’s disappearance. In frustration, he went back to his resting place, rolled up in his blanket and hungry, fell into a fitful sleep.

Lucifer, too found a sturdy oak in his grove at the top of the hill. He spread his illegal fortune before him as a stately banquet manner and gorged himself. The two beautiful pies and a full jar of fresh milk were quickly consumed. Thus filled, he became sleepy and rolling up in his blanket, he was asleep just about when Phinehas passed by.

Phinehas entered his oak grove on the protected side of the hill. A fine view of the hills and valleys to the west spread out before him. Nearby, an outcropping of stone formed a small dry cave, the perfect place to camp with a warm fire that night. Giving thanks, he consumed his half pie and refreshed his thirst with cool spring water. He found an oak tree that fit him like a glove and content in cool shade, watched the sun’s progress through the sky.

Late that afternoon, billowy white clouds began to swell. thunderheads began to race skyward, their thickness spreading and overlapping to one another. Clouds shifted color through tones of gray, turning darker and darker. Noiseless lightning flashes danced playfully from thunderhead to thunderhead. Thomas and Lucifer slept on. Phinehas, the best protected, watched in awe as the surging storm mounted in intensity.

When the storm came to their hill, the darkest moment was upon them. A colossal lightning bolt from the biggest thunderhead came down in blazing fury. It struck the tallest oak at the hilltop. Then, a deluge of rain pelted the country side.

V.

The next morning dawned bright and clear. Rain had cleansed the land, shiny leaves were washed of yesterday’s dust, and singing birds were already engaged in their breakfast songs. All seemed right in the world.

A solitary golden eagle was soaring in the updraft of the hill with three oak groves. His keen eyesight surveyed the landscape below. Intuition had not come to the stately bird as yet, but he would decide his flying path in a few moments. He first saw the shuffling footsteps coming out of the first oak grove. They went east, past the dairy farm to the path crossing a few leagues away. A slow, plodding, joyless indifferent human went that way, maybe back to the beginnings.

The eagle next spied footprints of steady, sprightly pace heading west. Here, a confident man was traveling. The keen ears of the eagle could hear the happy tune of a country song off in that direction. The same tune could be heard from a rich mellow voice of a woman in the farm beyond the dairy. The sharp eyes of the eagle saw a speck moving on towards another cross-way to the west.

Then the eagle saw the spirals of his distant cousins, the buzzards. They circled the oak grove at the top of the hill. Below the greatest oak had been split in half, destroyed by a lightning bolt from yesterday’s storm. The golden eagle decided then to circle and head west, follow the cheerful sounds of a country song, seek the treasure of the land and gain new courage for tomorrow.

(This story was written ten days before his death from kidney cancer.)