Did I tell you about our trip to the mountains? Oh, yeah, I recollect I
was tellin’ you we were at th' Royal Gorge. Well, sir, that same afternoon we drive
on up to Cotopaxi, find a spot by the river ‘n pitch our tent. Got the tackle
out and flung our lines in th’ river. We catch three nice rainbows, oh, ten,
eleven inches. ‘Course I caught one an 'em, ‘n Grace, she caught two. Always
have to best me, thet woman. Waal, they was mighty fine eatin’, cook as they
were in the arn skillet we bring along. Your Aunt Grace, she make some
fry-bread to go along with, an’ a han’ful a coffee in th’ ol’ tin pot asittin’
on the farr. Moughty fine. Mought near as good a meal I ever eat.
Son, I tell ya, sleepin’ on the ground, nothin’ but a ol’ comforter
underbeneath me is no way for a feller to treat his ol’ body. Thet will not
happen again, no matter what a hotel mought cost. So I finely get upright in
the mornin’ and got the ol’ bones to move on thoo the aches ‘n pains. We get a
good start, anyway, drive on up to Salida. Pretty little town, tho’ I can’t fer
the life a me see whut for people live up there. Nice scenery, can’t eat it.
So we drive on up to Buena Vista, lovely scenery along the way, your Aunt Grace say. Now we are up by the headwaters our Arkansas River, it come a bubblin’ down out the mountains. We drive on up to Leadville, that little V-8 85 workin’ it’s heart out, but she don’t falter, no sir. Now we drive thoo the barennest places I ever see, higher, higher, climb right to the top a th’ world. Nothin’ness ever’where ya look. Even Grace, who see beauty in ever’thing, say, “What do you suppose the Good Lord want with so much rocks and bare lan'?”
So we drive on up to Buena Vista, lovely scenery along the way, your Aunt Grace say. Now we are up by the headwaters our Arkansas River, it come a bubblin’ down out the mountains. We drive on up to Leadville, that little V-8 85 workin’ it’s heart out, but she don’t falter, no sir. Now we drive thoo the barennest places I ever see, higher, higher, climb right to the top a th’ world. Nothin’ness ever’where ya look. Even Grace, who see beauty in ever’thing, say, “What do you suppose the Good Lord want with so much rocks and bare lan'?”
Waal, I fancy I know th' answer to thet. I tell her, “Hon,” I say, “the
Bible say God create ever’thin' in six days, an’ He rest on the seventh. Now he
mought nigh get done with his work, ‘n he see thet th’ sun have gone down, night acomin’ on. So he have all this leftover scrap, ‘n he gotta dis-pose of
it afore dark, so He tuk and dump it all out here in the middle a
Colorado!”
“You ol’ fool,” say Grace. “Well, no; maybe you are right this time. I
sure see no use for all these rocks."
© 2014 David W. Lacy 31
7 comments:
Loved it - whee-oo but that's sum thick dialect - you write it well tho...
I can just hear them talking as I read this. That's the mark of good writing.
Grace, a bit thick, yes; but I try ta recollect how it is. Thank you.
Shelly, a writer always hopes the characters will get in the readers' heads. I appreciate your observation.
It's all in the eye of the beholder.
I agree, though, that home is the best place to be, even if it is on the prairie - or in hot, humid Kansas.
Vee, then you are on board with Jonathan Bing and Dorothy Gale, and Uncle Jeptha.
The only Cotopaxi that I know is a volcanic peak high in the Andes mountains of Ecuador. Its a beautiful, classic inverted cone. There used to be a NASA tracking station near the base of that Cotopaxi. They had some impressive antennas--not only for tracking but also for their comms network.
Chuck, I am aware of the Andean Cotopaxi, having studied SA geography a millenium or so ago. The Cotopaxi of which I write is a village on the Arkansas River above the Royal Gorge. It is distinguished primarily by a bridge crossing the river, and I guess by its 47 inhabitants. It boasts a k-12 school system with 211 students. They finished this year yesterday. Fished there in my adolescent days.
Post a Comment