Dusk is approaching when I finally head up to the Parkway. The sky in the west is thickening with clouds, and strong winds push against the trees. Whole ridgelines turn a paler, flurried green as the undersides of leaves are blown about. Spruce trees stand dark and dramatic against the gray sky.
Dusk is approaching and I’m glad I brought my jacket. The air is much cooler and thick with moisture. I settle down at Ridge Junction Overlook, which looks north, with the broad ridges of the Blacks to my immediate left. The clouds are bearing down upon the ridges, filling the sky. Off in the distance I can see Table Rock and Hawksbill, and the brighter light of a clearer sky.
Dusk is approaching and the air is charged with the energy of the storm. All the way up to this spot I have listened to Beethoven’s Emperor Concerto. My heart is heavy with the news of the week, and more than anything I need this music. I need this great altitude, the sweet and stirring air. I need this great sweeping storm charged with energy. I need this dark, wild place.
I need to breathe.