"Mother Fir in Cherry Form"

Once upon a time.

In the Eureka land, a quaint and private fir forest trailed up to a hidden hunter’s homestead where not an ounce of time nor trend, news nor pews, not even a dinner reservation existed; the only variable to life was the native flora and fauna & the animal kingdom that lived in euphony with the land. A land without prejudice or discord, the only rumble heard was the hushing string symphony conducted by mothers gale & the moaning of the Sierra Madre Occidental’s headliner, the legend known to the critters and the hunter as Red the black barn owl.

Red’s Hoot! Hoot! Hoot! traveled from the western slopes of Cerro Gordo to the eastern peak of Mt. Whitney like a tsunami siren, echoing off the rocks like an acoustic goldmine. The Siren song was heard every dawn at five fifty-five a.m. & at the strike of midnight like clockwork every day like baritone bells on a looping carousel.

Red’s Bells kept life in placid tempo, the critters didn't know a life without the moaning alarm & it was to this reminder that daily chores, productivity and wheel of life itself was able to suffice without hitting the wall. Rare as it was to see Red in action, it was considered a good omen to see his hawk-like shadow soar & luminous scarlet eyes plunging out of darkness to be seen if only for a glimpse of time. Eternal Luck that only the hunter and his family nature reaped and that was that.

On a day in May, for no given reason at all, there was a new rumble in the nature town. This rumble screeched like the scraping of a semi truck flipping & sliding in a forty two car pile up on the wailing interstate. A sonic boom to the wheel of life, HOOT! HOOT! HOOT! not even Red’s Bells were heard. A day turning as the inhabitants of the land hid with fear of the oncoming predatorial presence. No chores, no food, not even a sip from the stream was dared on this day in May. No Day this daily bread.

The siren wall constructed in the strike of a match, the wheel of life stood at halt & darkness soared over the Sierra Madre Occidental. This match would light the sparking string that would lead to the solvent room that would incinerate the land and its habitat paving way for a new world, a world of opportunity soaring the profit margins for the men in suits. A genesis of crippling demise for the roots of the land and the mother of nature in its purest form. In a state of sheer panic, The hunter grabbed his shotgun & binoculars and strapped up his Red Wing boots, geared up his steed and darted off into the mist to take a closer look at what was causing all of this goddamn’ racket.

As the nails of corporate anarchy drew nearer, Red swooped down from the mist and landed on the crown of the hunter’s head. HOOT! HOOT! HOOT! Exclaimed Red and the steed galloped into the epicenter where he was halted by the towering iron gate labeled with a sign:

FUTURE WIND FARM / POWER FACTORY

DEMOLITION AREA:DO NOT ENTER

BANANA BOAT ENERGY

GeneticWindRouter Inc.

Breathing a New Future

This land was to become artificial, intoxicated & in time only a memory on a bloody battlefield. Gentrification and the future had already unbuttoned its trousers, it was only a matter of time before the men in suits unzipped. The end of individuality was on the horizon & artifice was rattling the gates of natural existence and the sacred laws of the universe. Mother Nature too.

Red kept his Bells hush but he had a unity with the mother and knew that his family naturally was in danger. Without a moment to lose, Red soared into the mist & up the Western peak to the petrified mother fir tree that laid atop a natural copper cavern and beside three trevi fountain sized sulfur lagoons surrounding the mother fir. HOOT! HOOT! HOOT! Exclaimed Red as mother fir tree slowly started to pulse as her bark exuded copper like liquid and her limbs started growing, weaving and forming into a new luminous copper glowing cherry tree. Her voice spoke out in a celestial drone and ordered, “Go, gather our family and head west to the ocean, leave this place for seven days. When you return, everything will be as it should.” Speechless Red blinked and a red cloud of light pulsed over the Occidental as he raced back to the homestead. The suits consisted of construction blue collars, planners, engineers and corporate giants and all suits looked up in miraculous awe, pausing work for a brief moment to take in the supernatural splendor that took center stage before them. The blind, ignorant minds shy away from the signs of warning so within moments the chainsaws hit the chalkboards broadcasting fear to the region once more.

Red arrived home, landing in plain sight as the hunter & every living critter gathered in hopes of a hope. “HOOT! We are to head west to the salty mist where we will reside for seven days and seven nights, tonight we will travel.” Tonight came and they vanished into the pitch black with the stars overhead to light their way.

On the next morning, Mother fir was still in copper form and growing as sulfur spewed out of the precious skin bark of her transformative architecture. The suits just arrived to work, coffee and gossip was rudely interrupted by the rumblin’ & tumblin’ in the form of an earth tremor of great magnitude lasting three seconds. The trinity rumble shook holes in the land, and natural gasses started spewing out the rocks like pressure on a rattling tea pot. Work was called off for the day, the suits went home.

On the next morning, the suits arrived, the gas had subsided but had not diminished and it was decided that the show must go on and the tire screeching began like the start of the Indy 500. Mother fir in cherry form sent yet another tremor through the rigid land causing Nitrogen Oxide to steam up from the dirt into the atmosphere. As this process continued, the plants and vegetation started wilting and growing mold the color of rust and the ground rippled in a natural glitch causing a muted gray fuzz to rise out of the ground screaming a high pitched form of audio torture into the region, the suits to start bleeding from the ears as a result of this glitch. A moment in mayhem resided & a subtle ringing entered the land, the landmass snapped back into normal existence. The suits showed signs of weakness and sheer paranoia as they grabbed their masks, shirts and ties to shield themselves from this madness as they evacuated and went home.

On the next morning, the suits arrived skeptical but eager to break ground on a revolution so they clocked into another day’s work. Mother Fir in cherry form quickly called on the gods and a dark, ominous fog rolled in through the fir forest and creeped through the iron gates infiltrating the site. The suits froze as a subtle rain started to free fall over the industry. The rain grew hot & turned into a torrential downpour of boiling hot droplets so much as the touch blistered to the third degree and sounds of popping puss pockets were heard as the workers ran anywhere to shelter from this devil’s rain dance. The rain was then accompanied by bolts of lightning, energizing the boiling pools that had formed & any suits left were sent into an electric hot spring for a paid vacation.

The site was abandoned after the 3rd day. The wheels of industry hit the wall and nature was the architect. The habitat regenerated and the sky painted itself in hues of robin egg blue, creams and all was regenerated in light.

On the seventh day, Red, the hunter and the family natural returned home. No questions asked, only gratitude for the simple life and The safety they now took back into possession. That night, the stroke of midnight came and the illuminated golden black light from the universe lit the homesteak and Red sang a sweet Hoot. Hoot. Hoot like he was singing the sentimental blues. The hunter smoked his pipe, swigged his banquet and enjoyed the silence of the starry night sky as he rocked to sleep.

Mother Fir, seen on the Western peak in her glowing cherry tree form engulfed into flames and turned into a shadow silhouette of a petrified Fir. At that moment, Red’s talons and beak turned into a precious copper metal; Red’s courage, kindness and will to survive made him that much more rare, truly one of a kind in his own rite.

All was well in the Sierras. All is Well in the Sierras. All will be well, Sierras. Be Well, Sierras!

Hoot! Hoot! Home!

The End.