
Near sunset– nearer dusk, descending the south path, but with sunlight still warming the treetops across the gorge- we met a ranger making his rounds.
He’s a tall rangy guy, probably in his fifties, but his pace along the trails is that of a man twenty years younger, thirty.
We’ve talked before, over at Buttermilk; if you listen, you’ll learn something.
When I remarked about the quality of the light, he said, You notice the light.
A lot of people don’t, and then it’s dark, and they don’t have a flashlight.
They’ve got a cellphone, they think that’s all they need.
Yeah, and they call you, I said.
He smiled, turned, was on his way again.
At the next turning, I looked back, but he was already gone.