RockTalk

After two nights in a mountain cabin, doing absolutely nothing productive, Meredith and I finished up our anniversary weekend with a hike to The Crags - it's listed as one of the top 10 hikes in Colorado. She clicked this photo of me sitting atop the trail contemplating something...probably the holiness of the rocks around me. As we went back down the trail, you could hear folks in the distance. One young man's voice was clearly heard talking about the ancient practices of the Celtic people; however, he was pronouncing it "seltic" - like that basketball team from Boston. "Yes, the Seltics even honored groves of trees as sacred and holy," he said. I about laughed up a lung. And he just kept on yapping. A few minutes later, this young linguistics professor passed us, with a wife and baby in tow, still talking. The missus was intensely plodding ahead like some Indian scout, while ole' Prof had junior in one of those nifty, seltic backpacks with a lid on the top to prevent extreme exposure to the sun above pop's head. This guy had a hiking pole in each hand and an intensity on his face that made this Anglo nervous and would probably have unsettled most Selts. The poor kid was strapped or better yet, trapped, in and had no choice but to go along and listen. Professor Druid, Mama Bustamove, and Little St. Pat strode by on a mission, single-minded and determined to reach the peak and discuss Seltic mythology along the way. I can only hope that the Prof reached the peak and sat down on the same rock I was perched on, put down his poles, told mama to let down her hair, liberated his son from pack-tivity, and shut the hell up. If the people will be quiet, the very rocks will cry out of the holiness of God. That's something even the Seltics knew.