Welcome to the Mountain Fables Gallery.
"Where Imagination Meets the Wild"
At the Mountain Fables Gallery you will find the answers to questions like ~ ~ ~
Just where is Mountain Fables? Who, besides Ms. J lives there?
Why is everything so outdoorsy? And finally - How do I get there?
Where is Mountain Fables?
Mountain Fables is a mythical place residing deep within my imagination! It is a frame of mind that I enter when I take my walks. There are many real and imagined stories that awaken my creativity as I hike it's fields, its gullies, its woodlands and its meadows.
Horse and wagons once traveled a trail through the woods which was said to have been a through road in the 1800's. Through to where? To an adjoining neighbor's farm? To a county road , that was once itself a trail to the next town over? Who used it? When was it made? When and Why did they stop using it? Long forgotten as a thoroughfare, with no official records, this time warn road holds many opportunities for the imagination to run wild.
Rocks piles scattered deep in the woods. Surely a mystery waiting to unfold. Did an alien landing upend the earth and leave rock exposed and strewn about? Maybe the piles were caused by a sudden rumbling or small quake of the earth that caused an upheaval of rock from beneath. Chances are there is a more rational explanation for this phenomena!
The clearing of stone from the adjoining field in preparation for planting and harvesting is most likely the source of these rock piles. But why is the pile in the woods? Because the woods used to be part of the adjoining field! Over my many years on the mountain I have seen unkept field edges slowly turn to woodlands.
How could that happen? There are many ways. Trees, shrubs and weeds at the edge of the woods drop seed or spread by rhizome roots and each new plant repeats the process. The wind and flooding spread seeds. Animals spread seeds by dropping during food transport, burying for storage, dropping while eating, by defecting, by carrying hitch hiker seeds that cling to their bodies and eventually drop off. Of course there is a word for this transmittal of seed by animals. I have just learned that the transmissions of seed by animal has a proper name. It is called, zoochory. And of course it is broken down by category of occurrence, each category having a scientific name.
Now, back to those rock piles in the woods. Picture a farmer, perhaps centuries ago, plowing their field with a walk behind plow, braking sod and unearthing many stones. These stones must be removed to create a smooth tilling, planting and harvesting surface. So, the farmer and their helpers diligently toiled to remove as many stones as possible. More perfect stones were placed on a wagon and carted away to become stonewalls, foundations, chimneys, steps, sidewalks or decorative interior and exterior housing veneer. An occasional stubborn boulder; which was to heavy, buried to deep or was an upheaved part of an extended underground rock structure, had to be left in place. The remaining undesirables stones were then caste away. They were thrown neatly into a pile on the edge of the field where they could be retrieved if the need should arise, say for a doorstop, book ends or maybe a bed warmer on a cold winter's night. Meanwhile, years pass. The edge of the fields become neglected because the rock piles are in the way. The edges become overgrow with woodland plants. As time goes by, for varying reasons, the mother field may go neglected allowing the renegade woods to advance further into the clearing.
Voilà, your rock pile in the woods.
Enter imagination! ..............................
Did the farmer have helpers to clear the field of stone? Were the helpers family? Immediate or extended? Was it a big family? Were there lots of sons? Did the female members help? Did kids miss school to get this job done (like on tv)? Were the helpers friends that chipped in and helped clear each others fields? Were there hired hands? Was it a combination of all these helpers? How long did it take? Was the walk behind plow horse or man powered? What year was this rock pile made?
How old are the stones and how did each one come to have its shape? What about the stones with fossilized sea organisms molded into them? Zillions of years ago the earth was said to be covered with great bodies of water. Perhaps that included each place I find a fossil. But if so, why aren't there lots more? Did someone or something carry it to this final resting place? Or.... was it aliens?
Such are the questions that live on the mountain.
It is a calming joy to watch butterflies wistfully frolic among the flowers. In our simple human imaginations they always appear to be perfectly peaceful and having fun. Just drinking nectar and transferring pollen between plants for us. But are they? Do they have work pressures just like us.... Have to find more nectar! Is there a bird lurking nearby? It's awfully chilly for a summer day, is fall coming early?
We don't really know the answers, until one day when one very special butterfly happens by. It is only then that our human pea-brains can rationalize that their day is not always perfect and that, yes, they too have day to day trials and tribulations.
One beautiful Swallowtail Butterfly (I think it had tails) with damaged wings proves that not every day is perfect for these creatures that we view as wistful and carefree. My imagination was immediately unleashed when I saw the damage to this butterfly's wings. What in the world could have happened to this poor thing? Big chunks of both wings had been ripped away. Was this devastation caused by a human, animal, insect or an inanimate object? Did it happen all at once or was it different occurrences? I can only imagine the horrifying scenarios that are possible. How is this butterfly still flying?
But, after imagination had run its course, inspiration set in. This old timer, (I call it "old timer" because it somehow had beat the odds against whatever had happened to it), floated from Autumn Joy to Autumn Joy as if the damaging experience had never happened. Whatever terrifying event had ravished its wings, it was over and it was back to the business of everyday life. Not only could it fly, but it was very graceful and peaceful looking as it took its time among the flowers. This battle worn butterfly has become my inspiration. It is a living allegory for resilience from hard times.
Often I pass interestingly twisted tree roots or leaf covered tree trunks with obvious "house holes" tunneling into or beneath them. Who lives there? Is it the home of some small, cute furry animal? A small reptile of some sort? Could a shy or reclusive fairy, a pixy, maybe a gnome call this place home? Or, perhaps the neatly placed hole is the home where a small mountain troll spends peaceful days and rests its head at night!
Some of the Holes Where Fables Live.
Every dried or living plant, quiet rock, fallen branch or passing creature which lives within Mountain Fables has an artful beauty about it. And each has a mysterious history that provides inspiration for everything I do. As the saying goes...
"If the trees and rocks could talk." (At least that's the what I say it.)
There are many static and moving parts that form Ms. J's Mountain. Mountain Fables is the place where they all live and the place that binds them together.
Ms. J
Mountain Fables Guided Tours
