2021-09-01, 04:57 PM
(This post was last modified: 2021-09-01, 05:50 PM by DeathValleyDazed.
Edit Reason: spelling
)
Shout out to our very own DAW for suggesting Ghosts of the Glory Trail by Nell Murbarger as a good read. Here are some of my favorite lines taken from her captivating writing which will haunt me as I visit Death Valley in the near future.
This is a ghost town, a mining camp that has had its day, has sung its song.
Prospecting partners made their way across mountains or desert using their burros' tails for a compass.
Fighting for a chance to pay a dollar a night for a pair of dirty blankets and space on the ground to roll them.
Peace, like a wooly blanket settling over the town and a lonely wind came to whisper around broken windows, and ran its gaunt fingers over cold chimneys, and silent graves.
A lonely wind rattled the cabin door and tugged fretfully a the rusted stovepipe on the roof; and not even the old graveyard across the ravine was more pregnant with ghosts than the lifeless garden that had once bloomed in barren soil.
It seems as if the Present is subordinated to the Past and that the dead are closer and more real than the living.
This is a ghost town, a mining camp that has had its day, has sung its song.
Prospecting partners made their way across mountains or desert using their burros' tails for a compass.
Fighting for a chance to pay a dollar a night for a pair of dirty blankets and space on the ground to roll them.
Peace, like a wooly blanket settling over the town and a lonely wind came to whisper around broken windows, and ran its gaunt fingers over cold chimneys, and silent graves.
A lonely wind rattled the cabin door and tugged fretfully a the rusted stovepipe on the roof; and not even the old graveyard across the ravine was more pregnant with ghosts than the lifeless garden that had once bloomed in barren soil.
It seems as if the Present is subordinated to the Past and that the dead are closer and more real than the living.
Life begins in Death Valley