John B. Marek is a writer, farmer, outdoorsman and recovering economic developer. You can find his books at johnbmarek.com.
A famous poem by Emily Dickinson notes, “There’s a certain slant of light, Winter Afternoons.” The same might be said of autumn evenings. Although I have other plans this year, more often than not lately, I have spent my birthday, which falls around the autumn equinox, under the stars in the North Carolina mountains. Sometimes wholly alone, and sometimes with one of my dogs, I hike the often arduous trails that snake, switchback to switchback, up their wooded flanks and along their jagged precipices.
For those of us who spend our daily existence on the relatively flat landscape of the Carolina Piedmont, it takes a few hours to adjust to the constant up and down of mountain life. Muscles tense and flex, adapting to the undulating terrain. The legs, in particular, undergo a metamorphosis, growing sturdy and resilient, a testament to the transformative power of nature’s embrace. This phenomenon, aptly termed “mountain legs,” represents a physical fortitude and a spiritual grounding.
Mountains stand as colossal sentinels, reaching toward the heavens, while roots delve deep into the earth’s core. They are silent witnesses to the eons, guardians of ancient wisdom. When we venture into their embrace, our bodies become attuned to the rhythm of the land. It is as if the mountains themselves lend their strength to the weary hiker, offering a newfound sense of purpose and resilience.
Weary from the day’s exertion, I stop an hour before sunset to set up camp while it’s still light enough to see what I’m doing. The sun’s slanting rays imbue the landscape with a warm, ethereal glow, casting long, dramatic shadows. This phenomenon, known as “autumn light,” possesses a transcendent quality that has captivated artists, poets and philosophers for centuries. It is a time of transition, a bridge between day and night; the vivacity of summer, and the introspection of winter. In the presence of autumn light, the world seems to slow, inviting reflection and a deeper connection with the natural world.
When mountain legs intersect with autumn light, the result is a profound synthesis of physicality and spirituality. The crisp mountain air fills our lungs, invigorating our bodies with each breath. The play of light and shadow accentuates the contours of the terrain, creating a visual symphony that resonates with the soul. In this moment, we find ourselves not merely observers but active participants in the grandeur of the natural world.
This union prompts a deeper reflection on our place within the tapestry of existence. It invites contemplation of our transient nature and the enduring resilience of the mountains. We are reminded that, like the seasons, we also undergo growth, transformation and renewal cycles. Our mountain legs symbolize our capacity to adapt and thrive in the face of adversity, while the autumn light serves as a beacon of hope, illuminating our path forward.