We have huddled away in the Smokey Mountains in a one-room cabin, the forest strewn about with boulders blanketed in cold emerald moss, my wife’s surprise for my early birthday. Solitude is the gift of lovers, losing our selves in the hills and hollows of quiet and overgrown ancient lands piled with fog and winter cold while binding our love with thick blankets and warming fires. Just as God demands solitude with Him, just you and He so does love if it is to age, I am soon to be 61, my marriage 35 and this cabin is the metaphorical oaken barrel for mellowing. I would say that is an apt word for our marriage, mellow. We seek the quiet stream, the unused trail, the lone altar, and the mountainous range to regularly renew the vow to God to love each other for earthly ever and He to bless with mellow marriage.
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| Path to our back door. |
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