The hill was steep and for a while I wondered whether or not I could make it to the ridge without having to stop for a break and when I had begun looking for someplace to rest, I heard voices coming from somewhere up the hill. It sounded for all the world like a couple of old hillbillies, probably rattling on like they often do about rural issues or the ignorance of young people, but something about this conversation was different – way different – from the typical woodsy talk you’d expect, so I sort of eavesdropped on their conversation as I struggled up towards them.
It seemed as though I heard one of them ask, “Could this early encroach of cheerful autumn clime be mayhap a dire result of the Atlantic Meridional Overturning Circulation becoming weaker due to the fresh water being released from the Beaufort Gyre?”, queried one of the old-timers to my utter astonishment. The other quickly and sternly replied, “Fie on’t, ah fie, ’tis an unweeded garden…” as he wiped the snuff spittle from his chin with his shirtsleeve. By this time, I began to wonder if the hill I was ascending was leading me into a parallel universe, such was the unexpected tenor and topic of their conversation. ” Whither by chance or cosmic nuance, frost shall burst forth soon, for today seems ’tis an unweeded garden that grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature possess it merely.”
A scroungy hound could be heard snorting and complaining of his being relegated to tick food during the exchange as at last the participants emerged into view, sure enough, two elderly hillbillies clad in flannel shirts and bib overalls were there, sitting on ancient hewn blocks of white oak in front of an equally ancient log cabin – all the trappings one would expect of a homestead in this neck of the woods. “Forsooth, yon misty plumes across an indigo cosmos shall later descend upon unsuspecting populace bearing particulates of aluminum, barium, and other such damnable constituents as may cause harm, yet none be concerned, nor shall they come to be forthwith, so it seems,” remarked the eldest of the two as he lifted a large jug to his mouth for a drought.
“Yea, for henceforth that which blooms upon the earth in fields once blessed of provident grace shall come to naught also and alas for farmers those rank weeds assail. Moreover, today few men of stature possess dignity perchance to allay our concerns, giving thought to such perversity as allowing said maladies to thrive for pecuniary gain.” followed the other. By now I was getting close enough to be seen and the old dog let out a half-hearted bark to apprise the old fellows their conversation was being interrupted, and their tenor suddenly changed. “Howdy young feller” the older one, who I came to know as Willie, said to greet me as he pointed to an unoccupied stump. “Take a seat right thar and git a load off.”
At once the world I was travelling through returned to what a hiker would have expected, leaving me even more dumbfounded than when I was listening to their earlier conversation. “Did I just hear you guys quoting Shakespeare?” I nervously queried. “Shake who?” queried Willie as he looked confusedly at his buddy Tom, then back at me.
“No really, I just heard you discussing scientific subjects such as the Beaufort Gyre, and in a totally unexpected vernacular,” I replied. “Looky here young’un, I know it was a hard traipse up that hill, but you need to just sit here and rest a few minutes and try to get your marbles back. We ain’t ever heard of nuthin like that. Here, have a swig of this product, maybe it’ll clear your head.” as he reached the jug over to me. I must admit, I was beginning to question whether the climb up the hill had indeed affected my “marbles”.
Tom slowly fetched a pouch of chewing tobacco out of his overalls pocket and stuffed what looked like a coffee cupful into his yapper as Willie eyed me suspiciously. “Seriously, have you fellows ever read about chem trails and their potential to damage crops and people?” I carefully asked, trying not to rouse any more discomfit than I already had. “Nope, nary a bit of it, and you need to take a pull off that moonshine cause you keep a’soundin’ like a idjit.” By now I was convinced that it was me who was rattled, and I “took a pull” even though the stuff inside was reminiscent of stale kerosene. Needless to say, I shuddered violently as the draught went down which gave the old timers a good laugh. In fact, Tom laughed so hard he ejected half of his chew. The effect of the “shine” on my senses was almost immediate and I rapidly calmed down, assured by now that the exertion of the hike coupled with what may have been the effects of x-ray bombardment from recent solar flaring probably caused me to hear things.
I sat a while and took another swig or two and came to enjoy the conversation and even petted the old hound, but soon I realized it was getting late and I needed to get where I was going. As I stood up to leave, my head was a little cross threaded and I reeled a bit, which of course gave the old hillbillies another laugh, but I steadied myself with my walking stick and after heartfelt farewells, resumed my journey through the Ozarks.
As I walked away, but before I got out of earshot, I thought I heard Willie say, “Mayhap thine opportune drought moored the sensibilities of that stalwart youth, though he may have been taken amok from the effect of ultraviolet radiation of recent solar flares, particularly that of number 3985 with its attendant Coronal Mass Ejection.”
“Perhaps, yet I say “fie on’t!”
I just kept walking.
Have a wonderful day.
MK