Once upon a time, a storyteller traveled many miles over the mountains to visit her family and tell stories. Along the way she encountered breathtaking fall scenery, pelting rain, lightning, a chance meeting with her oldest son, and a hearty welcome at the home of her second son.
She marveled at the music played by him and a group of his friends, wandering minstrels in the loft of a garage.
The following day she journeyed once again to visit her parents in their "new place." The day was bright and beautiful and the cemetery quiet and restful. There she encountered one of her Seven Sisters who helped arrange flowers. The Storyteller placed roses on the grave of her parents and on the grave of a young fallen warrior, a stranger she had not met in life but grieved for in death. (Stories, as life, are often full of such riddles).
Because the Storyteller had traveled far, distant family gathered that evening to share food, wine and stories. Many of these tales centered on the mythic brother (and third son) Derek, known for wild rides through mudholes in four-wheel-drive trucks, lost trucks and tractors and many other feats of daring.
After a breakfast feast prepared by second son Jon and enjoying the play of his daughters, the Storyteller journeyed once again to the far-off city of Martinsburg to tell stories to strangers. As is always the case, the strangers became friends before the afternoon was over as all listened to tales and ballads from the mountains.
The Storyteller waved a fond farewell to her new friends and set forth yet again to travel over mountainous terrain, along rivers and through valleys, wondering at the beautiful sights that met her eyes. As darkness descended, her faithful husband and driver guided the Nissan chariot safely past wandering deer to the place of her abode. There they rested, to rise again and start yet another work week.And so the Storyteller's journey ended, and all the memories she carried home will live happily ever after.