2003-07-04 : 7:21 a.m.
Last night we had the second cast party at my house. We partied till one in the morning and then, what with driving people home, I was in bed by 2:30. The sick thing was, though, that I woke up at 4:30 and haven't been able to get to sleep.
At five I went out to take a walk. Everything was spectacular!
The sky and atmosphere was at the inbetween state where it's not sure if it wants to remain night or move on and let the sun rise. Everything was overcast but only hazily so. There was no noise, no traffic--except maybe for the feathered airways--only birds.
From the laughing burbling birds to the mourning doves weeping to eachother. From the songbirds which sing things more glorious than a composer could write to the piercing cry of crows. These were my only companions on my walk. I strolled to Maplewood Cemetery and said a rosary, really dwelling on each decade and prayer.
Now I'm praying that I have enough energy to last me through the day. I feel like I'm flying on cobwebs: I'm joyous and light as a feather but a stray wind might knock me apart.
You have walked 85 miles.
You have passed The Bonfire Glade(78).
It is 13 miles to the next landmark.
You still have 373 miles to Rivendell.
'I don't know what stories you mean,' Merry answered. 'If you mean the old bogey-stories Fatty's nurses used to tell him, about goblins and wolves and things of that sort, I should say no. At any rate I don't believe them. But the Forest is queer. Everything in it is very much more alive, more aware of what is going on, so to speak, than things are in the Shire. And the trees do not like strangers. They watch you. They are usually content merely to watch you, as long as daylight lasts, and don't do much. Occasionally the most unfriendly ones may drop a branch, or stick a root out, or grasp at you with a long trailer. But at night things can be most alarming, or so I am told. I have only once or twice been in here after dark, and then only near the hedge. I thought all the trees were whispering to each other, passing news and plots along in an unintelligible language; and the branches swayed and groped without any wind. They do say the trees do actually move, and can surround strangers and hem them in. In fact long ago they attacked the Hedge: they came and planted themselves right by it, and leaned over it. But the hobbits came and cut down hundreds of trees, and made a great bonfire in the Forest, and burned all the ground in a long strip east of the Hedge. After that the trees gave up the attack, but they became very unfriendly. There is still a wide bare space not far inside where the bonfire was made.'
All material (c) by Julie A. Snyder