Southern Dunes

By Al Horn

Not that long ago, I traveled afar. Periodically, I feel the need to get out and visit new places, meet new people, and experience new things. During my recent sojourn, I'd paid good money to trek through a refuge filled with tall grasses, palm trees, and sandy stretches...  lots of sandy stretches.

The type of refuge I had entered was common for this particular geographic area.  I was not alone in this place. Several others had come before me, paid for their right to enter, and were moving about in small groups.  Like me, they had come to enjoy the great outdoors, to be challenged by the environment. To seek answers from within as well as from nature.  Though traveling in groups, they willfully interacted with others that crossed their path.

The temperature was warm, but not sweltering.  A light wind was blowing, just enough to cause the tall grass to sway gently to and fro.  A recent rain had left the ground soft, but not muddy.  The sky held just enough clouds to cast the occasional shadow across our path.

Rangers in small crafts suited for the landscape traveled this hidden retreat.  Their jobs were to check on the visitors.  Our bought time was not infinite; we were expected to move from site to site in a timely fashion. When visitors would get bogged down enjoying one portion of the land, it was the duty of the ranger to gently but firmly remind them to move on and allow others the same opportunities.

It had been some time since I last saw a ranger.  Having wandered into one of the many stretches of sand, I came to a stop. I  pondered my present position. I surveyed where I had just come from and where I was planning to venture next. At that same time, the sun broke free of the large cloud that had been hiding it. The wind had picked up a little, causing the tall grass, to whisper lightly.  In those same grasses I could hear a bird chirping as if in answer to the grass.

I stood there, contemplating my surroundings.  I felt some strange sense of nirvana.  For a moment, I wanted to know if there was some significance to what was happening. What part, if any, did this moment play in the big picture we call life?  It seemed as if I was on the edge of grasping that meaning when the moment was broken.

A sudden multi-syllable screech had broken that trance.  A litany of sound I knew all too well. It was my wife's voice: "Hit the ball, Al, the group behind us is starting to catch up!"