最后一座山（3）

    over the years a ragged second-groe of the baseball diamond, has blotted out that vie to see beneath the crystalline sky but the uneven tops of second-groun to taken on the steelier tints of  light of early evening, i used to stand here by the old oak and look out across an interluden of scrub and sed.  as a hill it nificant enough. beloround juniper and outcroppings of granite. yet something about that hill dreo to it, (make my ranite until i stood on the very summit.) it  i had to do.  i could not explain et a and afternoon, our activitics  or ro or playing tennis or baseball or practicing a track event or going off on nature  some gadget in the carpentry shop—just so long as . but to do nothing, to climb a hill for no reason, that ainst the “camp spirit.”

    saturday afternoons, ht a certain relaxation, less accountability. on one such blue and vivid afternoon i slipped aet to my hill. from the great oak, i could see its summit ahead of me, unkno. inconspicuously, i edged along the baseball field, then slipped into the underbrush.

    it oing, hard to keep a sense of direction in such a tangle of vine and thicket. i stumbled over rotten logs, stepped into anthills. marsh hillocks gave ged me, prickly seeds nant.  and hover-flies circling and darting, i plodded on, losing myself and losing track of time.

    i must have been struggling on for at least an hour. suddenly i came to a clearing, an open grove of ash and maple, and as the sunlight filtered through the leaves. i sahtly painted in a variety of colors, trimmed les, h-pitched roofs, each th from the next, and all n of any living being.

    to me, emerging from the rove  out of grimm, as if this odd little village had been put under a spell and had been asleep for 100 years. a yello for hansel and gretel. so quiet the grove  limp. blue and green dragonflies, poised in the air, added to the enchantment. far off, i could hear the nolent buzz. otherwise silence.</p>

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