From the bloggers at Box Canyon Blog.
Ellen Meloy had a glorious childhood. She ran amuck golden foothills of the Sierras in California, where grandparents carved a living from a sprawling family homestead. Roots ran as deep as the snow on Mount Whitney.
A great aunt of hers spent summer’s working fire-watch in a remote, ridge-top tower during the war, withstanding loneliness and lightening strikes and boredom. Ellen had access to a family hunting cabin in the high-up forests above the ranch. She’d sprawl out under gargantuan ponderosas on soft beds of pine needles, centuries in the making, surrounded by pinecones the size of beavers.
She remembers staring at lazy clouds through pine-bows, torqued by a Pacific breeze. It was hypnotizing, the faint mixed scent of ocean and pine imbedded aromatic memories that would never be forgotten.
But things change. Today the family homestead lies deep beneath one of a series of lakes, a wild and scenic river dammed to extinction in a misguided attempt to sate coastal California’s growing thirst.
To read the full story by Box Canyon Blog, click here.