I often post about the mountains and the people who lived there, blazing the trail for us to enjoy generations later. I don't normally focus on what it meant to blaze that trail since I am overwhelmed with the beauty they left behind.
This particular photo has a bit darker feeling with more of a foreboding sense about it. I purposely presented it in this way to remind myself that along with the serenity, the independence and beauty of this lifestyle decades ago...there were also a palpable hardships as well. How many of us reading the blog would have the drive to dig out the sandstone from a nearby mountain stream, transport the stones up and over mountains many times, and then lay each individual stone in order to build a fireplace to stay warm and survive the harsh winters? There are stories of holes in the floors big enough to let rattlers or water moccasins find their way into your straw filled mattress while you sleep. Each log is cut, transported and hand sculptured to fit, locked to the others because nails were a luxury in those days. Education was far down on the list of priorities, only after the grains were harvested and meat was butchered for the family.
However, this makes the experience of reliving these historic journeys even more fascinating...knowing the sacrifices our now distant relatives gladly took upon themselves in order to make a difference in their lives....and then by default, ours as well.
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