by Paul H. Thompson

Created on: July 15, 2008   Last Updated: July 17, 2008

"Undo that latch," she said when we pulled off the road. A childlike joy overtook me as the electric motor rolling back the convertible's top hummed. For early December, the warmth of the day was the first of many gifts. In the open air, we swept past the remaining miles along a winding country back road relishing the breeze, our shouted words vanishing in the rush like blown leaves.

Arriving at Missouri's Hawn State Park, we wasted no time loading the backpack and heading up a trail that wended its way along the creek bluff. A steep ascent up a rough path knurled with tree-roots and studded with stones led us, breathless, to a spectacular view of the rivulet below, the tree-filled valley and the height we had obtained. Onward, holding hands where the trail widened, Chris and I were sharing in the first of what we came to call our "adventures" - weekend or daylong excursions into the wilder parts of the state.

Farther up the trail, Chris stopped sharply, gestured me to hush. "Did you hear anything?" she whispered. "No, what?" "Fairies." We had come to the spot she had named Fairyland. Limestone outcroppings covered with a patina of pale green lichen dotted the woods. It was easy to imagine impishly smiling fairies, gnomes and little people peaking from beneath the stones. An odd greenish light suffused the air. Silence, save the rustle of limbs on leaf-shorn oaks and hickories, abounded in this place. It was indeed a place that inspired thoughts of mystery and magic, a birthing place of ancient lore.

Places like this let us forget the hustle of the city, the whirl of techno-culture and the grind of the workaday world. Questions arise about modern man's virtues, our unexamined faith in progress, the relentlessness of the new, our incessant demands for more. But we let those thoughts lie. Here, all was sufficient to the moment. We existed poised in the now. In such places in such moments, ruminations on the broader questions of civilization must dissolve as insignificant. The peace of the woodland overtakes all coarser strands of thought.

"Come on," she urged. "There's more to see." We skirted the gently sloping ridge, alighting on the highest point, where cedars clung to the sparse soil amidst limestone boulders. We climbed a few steps down where the outcropping offered a lordly command of the valley below. Since the season had vanquished the foliage, the view into the valley was clear. I slipped off the knapsack, grateful for the cooling air upon my sweaty back.

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