I always got a chuckle out of the hand painted sign on the big rock that sat just at the entrance to the trail.
"If the Rock is Wet, it's raining" it read.
So many times over the years Sarah and I went to the trail that led to the top of the cliffs overlooking our valley. The trail wasn't long, just a few hundred yards, a beautiful climb through trees and wildlife. It opened at the top to a glorious view that was usually clear all the way to the mountains of darker blue to the East.
The grass was soft, there were only rare visitors to the area, few even knew of it that did not live in the valley.
Sarah would pack a basket, we would sit and look out over our own lands, our home just a dot on the horizen. Sometimes we could even see a wisp of dust behind one of our tractors as Danny or Dean worked a field, other times we could see the different colors of our crops as they grew, bordered by trees on every side.
We often sat as the sun set, our arms around each other, watching the dark shadow of the cliff pacing relentlessly across our land.
It was our place of rest and peace in the Spring and Summer months, Winter often meant snow and so we looked forward to Spring again to make the climb. In the fall we were always far to busy with the harvests to go.
Time moved on, children begat grandchildren, Sarah and I could see that perhaps soon even our grandchildren would add more to our family. They all knew of our trips, just Sarah and I went up there. Rarely we would make sweet love in nature, perhaps the finest of all between mates when out in the wild with birds singing and a soft warm breeze over bare skin.
More often we simply sat and watched, not speaking as no need to, enjoying the sight of what we had built below.
Our life together was almost a given from childhood. Sarah was the daughter of our neighbor, we were inseperable. We played together and worked together, the way life is for simple farmers. As innocent children we splashed naked in the creek, no cares about the world as only children can know.
I had chosen another soon after school and married, I picked the most beautiful girl available. Sarah was just a friend to me, Patra was a prize, I thought. Of course that union failed, and Sarah was gone, off to see the world. I worked my farm in loneliness, accepting the choice I had made. Sarah and I had lost a decade of life together, then one evening she stood on my porch. She brought to me her purity that night, and we conceived our first son.
"I waited for you, Dan." she told me quietly as she lay curled in my arms. I held her as a tear of joy slipped down my cheek, a world turned wrong had just turned right again.
It was perfect, it was the way things should have been all along. The Lord allowed me to fix my mistake, I was blessed.
Our world was filled with work, crops, family, making one end of life stretch to the other. Each day was sweet and fine, Sarah and I watched as our children, then grandchildren grew, worked and played just as we had done.
As the years went by, the Sun made deep lines on her face, the same was true of me. Not once did I ever look at her and see anything but beauty, though. If anything, the maturity made her even more beautiful. Some evenings I would sit resting from my day's labors and watch her. We could sit for hours just holding each other and talking about all that was going on, and all that we needed to do. At night we always slept wrapped in each other's arms. During the day if either of us had a need there was no cause to speak, we somehow knew.
