Each minute worth a fortune told
In dashboard clock’s slow-turning hands,
As country music filled our plans.
George Strait singing crystal-clear,
While excitement drew camp ever near,
Brooks & Dunn and Garth Brooks too,
Soundtrack to our mountain view.
Phil’s store waiting on the hill,
That screen door’s creak (I hear it still),
Canvas bags of beef jerky sweet,
Cold drinks rolling at our feet.
Then Gearsbeck’s welcome, warm and bright,
Where subs grew tall in fluorescent light,
“Extra bacon,” our sacred words,
The weekend’s anthem finally heard.
The camp road’s final winding climb,
Each curve a step back into time,
Till there she stood, our mountain home,
Where memories waited, free to roam.
The water pump’s familiar song,
Arms full of wood where they belong,
Each task a dance we knew by heart,
In nature’s play, we knew our part.
Crossing paths worn soft with care
To June and Jim’s trailer there,
Where addition lights glowed honey-warm,
A haven safe from evening’s storm.
The big blue light cast gentle rows
Of shadows where the tall grass grows,
While stories drifted through the trees
Of hunts and mountain memories.
Around the lantern’s steady glow,
Tomorrow’s plans would ebb and flow,
Which ridge to climb, which trail to clear,
What project would the dawn bring here?
Rain’s soft tattoo on tin roof high
Sang nature’s sweetest lullaby,
While mountain darkness gathered deep,
And peace wrapped ‘round us, soft as sleep.
Sometimes midnight brought the race
To outhouse through the starlit space,
Where mountain air caught in our chest
Made even this feel heaven-blessed.
Dawn broke gentle, chickadee song
Telling us where we belong,
While bluejays scolded morning light
For chasing shadows into flight.
Coffee perking, radio low,
As morning mist began to flow
Down Sarvey’s slopes in silver streams,
While we planned out our day’s sweet dreams.
These weren’t just weekends, something more,
Sacred rituals we lived for,
Each moment precious, crystal-clear,
Growing dearer year by year.
From Friday’s first excited breath
To Sunday’s pause, each moment kept
Like treasures in a mountain chest,
These memories remain our best.
Simple things made magic there:
A sandwich shared, a knowing stare,
The way you taught without a word,
Through mountain silence, wisdom stirred.
Now when crickets sing at night,
Or when I see a blue porch light,
I’m back there in those moments true,
Living mountain dreams with you.
For in these memories, time stands still
At Phil’s old store upon the hill,
At Gearsbeck’s counter piled with care,
In every space we learned to share.
Each weekend built a legacy
Of love as vast as mountains be,
Where simple moments, strung like pearls,
Made boys to men in nature’s world.
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