“So the first thing is where. My first thought is the Heart of Green.”
“Off to the Right?”
“No, before that and down hill. At the base of the Stairstream.”
“Oh. Under that cliffy flat place that leads to Blasted Heath, over the cliffs.”
“Yes, where Keith started cursing out the valley in neo-Sumerian.”
“—hole.”
“Quite. Anyway, what about there?”
“Okay. Sure. Then we could go by Elven Rocks…”
“The rocks on the right, or the ones on top of the hill with the view down the back and, what is that, north?”
“Yeah … I think they filmed part of Harold and Maude out there. Looks like it. The bridge scene.”
“That was San Mateo.”
“Right, but if it wasn’t, then there. But on the from where the view is.”
“Roger Dean Rocks.”
“Roger Dean Rocks. Right. The acorn mortars.”
“Right. And through that sort of on top of the hill lane. You know? By the rock by the tree.”
“Oh! Yeah! The birthday rock!”
“Didn’t you play the flute up there once?”
“I’ll bring it.”
“Who else can we invite?”
“Who else knows the way?”
Awwww….I like that; makes me feel all nostalgy.
I don’t know the way, but I know the Place well. Ferns, mushrooms, moss, little wildflowers, and the most amazing woodsy smell.
@PAC: It’s supposed to.
@AG: That’s the one. Especially scentful under a misty grey rain, or after.
(I should also mention, perhaps, that I wrote this a year or so ago, just noodling out some dialog for an exercise in same, then came across it t’other day and thought, blogwise, “Why not?”)