The weather in central Oklahoma has been gorgeous lately. Tonight is a near full moon, and yesterday I witnessed one of the most gorgeous sunsets that I have ever seen. When atmospheric conditions are right, no place on earth has sunsets any more gorgeous. One such sunset was part of the inspiration for my novel Prairie Sunset.
John and Attie are two improbable, moonstruck lovers. Near the end of the story, at Artist’s Point outside of Eureka Springs, Arkansas, they stop their RV to watch the sunset. Here is a short excerpt of that scene from the novel Prairie Sunset:
* * *
Laboring up steep Highway 71, Attie managed to pass several slower moving, sight-seeing vehicles. When they reached the highest point, south of Canada, on the old highway, Attie pointed into the distance.
"Eureka's just beyond the horizon. Seventy miles as the crow flies."
"Look there, Attie. A rainbow on the horizon. Must be where our pot of gold lies."
"Don't see it."
"In the distance," he said. "Where you pointed."
"Road's too steep. I'll take your word for it."
Passing through Fayetteville, Springdale and Rogers they neared the final stretch of highway before reaching Eureka Springs. A road sign said 'next fourteen miles steep and winding'. It was. Spiraling ever upward the narrow road flattened only briefly, forming a river valley. Having gouged its course between two rounded peaks, the river meandered lazily into the distance, creating a lovely mountain vale in its wake.
Crossing the river, Attie pointed 'Ol Betsy up the steepest mountain they had yet encountered. Ascending the incline, the engine coughed and labored. Overlooking the river below, their view became even more dramatic as they climbed ever higher. Near the mountain's crest the winding roadway took a wide loop, affording a spectacular view of the meandering river, far below.
"Pull over Attie," John said.
Responding to urgency in his voice, Attie wheeled the RV to a scenic turnout by the side of the road. "You all right?" she said.
"We're not going to make it to your house before dark. Let's stop here and watch the sunset."
In the western sky, the golden orb had already begun its descent. Attie parked and waited until John opened the door and fresh air, damp with impending rain, flooded the vehicle. Stepping to the ground, he smiled and stretched his arms.
"Attie, I feel as if I've finally come home."
"You have, John," she said, taking his hand. "We both have."
Together they walked to the cliff's edge and sat on a large limestone boulder overlooking the valley. Purple martins, leaving daytime roosts in search of insects, swirled high overhead and in the distance a chorus of tree frogs began their nocturnal serenade. Damp breeze whistling through the pines joined the melody, harmonizing with a company of crickets lilting like a thousand violins.
Tightly squeezing Attie's hand, John said, "It's beautiful."
"Yes it is," Attie said, gazing at the red radiating sphere burning a luminous swath in fading sky as it descended toward the valley floor.
"Once," he said. "On a spring night in western Oklahoma I saw a sunset almost as beautiful. Particles of dust from some volcanic eruption in the Pacific filled the sky. Invisible during the day, dispersed particles became fiery streaks of crimson incandescence at dusk."
"A beautiful sunset is something to remember."
"Attie, you remember the horse races?"
"Course I do."
"Remember when I told you which horse I was betting on? You said he was the biggest nag on the track - had never won a race."
"And you were too stubborn to listen."
"I bet on his name, Prairie Sunset, because until I met you that sunset in western Oklahoma was the loveliest vision I'd ever seen."
"You're incurable," she said, nudging his ribs and moving closer. Putting her arm around his waist, Attie felt a tremble beneath her touch, like a bridge abutment, stressed with age, beginning to tire and collapse.
"John, need a heart pill?"
"Already took two," he said, his breathing suddenly coming faster and then in short gasps.
"John!" Not answering, John closed his eyes and shrank back against the boulder. "Get up John. We're just outside town. There's a hospital there."
Neither speaking, nor opening his eyes, John grasped Attie's hand. Squeezing it tightly, his lips began to quiver and he fought to open his eyes.
"Attie," he said in a whisper. "Help me up."
"No!" she said, tears welling up in her red-rimmed eyes."
"Help me Attie," he said, his voice low and becoming increasingly hard to hear.
She encircled his waist, struggling to lift him. Managing somehow to boost him into a sitting posture, she positioned herself behind him, bracing his frail weight between her legs, against her body, embracing him as death's head danced ever-narrowing circles above them. Finally, it kissed his cheek.
"This can't be happening. Not now. Not so close to home. Let me help you to a doctor."
Holding her hand, John shook his head and said, "Don't cry Attie. This has been the happiest week of my life. I never met a kinder, sweeter person than you." His voice was barely a whisper when he squeezed her hand, one last time, and said, "I love you, Attie. You kept your promise and took me to the Magic Fountain. Before I go I want you to make one more promise."
Clutching his hand in a desperate clasp, Attie nodded sadly, as tears streamed down her red and puffy face.
"Bury me on an Arkansas hillside, facing west. I'm home now and I never want to leave again."
Attie promised. Then, until the sun had long disappeared below the western horizon, and distant thunder heralded gentle rain, she clutched him to her breast, crying silent tears as she rocked him in her arms.
John and Attie are two improbable, moonstruck lovers. Near the end of the story, at Artist’s Point outside of Eureka Springs, Arkansas, they stop their RV to watch the sunset. Here is a short excerpt of that scene from the novel Prairie Sunset:
* * *
Laboring up steep Highway 71, Attie managed to pass several slower moving, sight-seeing vehicles. When they reached the highest point, south of Canada, on the old highway, Attie pointed into the distance.
"Eureka's just beyond the horizon. Seventy miles as the crow flies."
"Look there, Attie. A rainbow on the horizon. Must be where our pot of gold lies."
"Don't see it."
"In the distance," he said. "Where you pointed."
"Road's too steep. I'll take your word for it."
Passing through Fayetteville, Springdale and Rogers they neared the final stretch of highway before reaching Eureka Springs. A road sign said 'next fourteen miles steep and winding'. It was. Spiraling ever upward the narrow road flattened only briefly, forming a river valley. Having gouged its course between two rounded peaks, the river meandered lazily into the distance, creating a lovely mountain vale in its wake.
Crossing the river, Attie pointed 'Ol Betsy up the steepest mountain they had yet encountered. Ascending the incline, the engine coughed and labored. Overlooking the river below, their view became even more dramatic as they climbed ever higher. Near the mountain's crest the winding roadway took a wide loop, affording a spectacular view of the meandering river, far below.
"Pull over Attie," John said.
Responding to urgency in his voice, Attie wheeled the RV to a scenic turnout by the side of the road. "You all right?" she said.
"We're not going to make it to your house before dark. Let's stop here and watch the sunset."
In the western sky, the golden orb had already begun its descent. Attie parked and waited until John opened the door and fresh air, damp with impending rain, flooded the vehicle. Stepping to the ground, he smiled and stretched his arms.
"Attie, I feel as if I've finally come home."
"You have, John," she said, taking his hand. "We both have."
Together they walked to the cliff's edge and sat on a large limestone boulder overlooking the valley. Purple martins, leaving daytime roosts in search of insects, swirled high overhead and in the distance a chorus of tree frogs began their nocturnal serenade. Damp breeze whistling through the pines joined the melody, harmonizing with a company of crickets lilting like a thousand violins.
Tightly squeezing Attie's hand, John said, "It's beautiful."
"Yes it is," Attie said, gazing at the red radiating sphere burning a luminous swath in fading sky as it descended toward the valley floor.
"Once," he said. "On a spring night in western Oklahoma I saw a sunset almost as beautiful. Particles of dust from some volcanic eruption in the Pacific filled the sky. Invisible during the day, dispersed particles became fiery streaks of crimson incandescence at dusk."
"A beautiful sunset is something to remember."
"Attie, you remember the horse races?"
"Course I do."
"Remember when I told you which horse I was betting on? You said he was the biggest nag on the track - had never won a race."
"And you were too stubborn to listen."
"I bet on his name, Prairie Sunset, because until I met you that sunset in western Oklahoma was the loveliest vision I'd ever seen."
"You're incurable," she said, nudging his ribs and moving closer. Putting her arm around his waist, Attie felt a tremble beneath her touch, like a bridge abutment, stressed with age, beginning to tire and collapse.
"John, need a heart pill?"
"Already took two," he said, his breathing suddenly coming faster and then in short gasps.
"John!" Not answering, John closed his eyes and shrank back against the boulder. "Get up John. We're just outside town. There's a hospital there."
Neither speaking, nor opening his eyes, John grasped Attie's hand. Squeezing it tightly, his lips began to quiver and he fought to open his eyes.
"Attie," he said in a whisper. "Help me up."
"No!" she said, tears welling up in her red-rimmed eyes."
"Help me Attie," he said, his voice low and becoming increasingly hard to hear.
She encircled his waist, struggling to lift him. Managing somehow to boost him into a sitting posture, she positioned herself behind him, bracing his frail weight between her legs, against her body, embracing him as death's head danced ever-narrowing circles above them. Finally, it kissed his cheek.
"This can't be happening. Not now. Not so close to home. Let me help you to a doctor."
Holding her hand, John shook his head and said, "Don't cry Attie. This has been the happiest week of my life. I never met a kinder, sweeter person than you." His voice was barely a whisper when he squeezed her hand, one last time, and said, "I love you, Attie. You kept your promise and took me to the Magic Fountain. Before I go I want you to make one more promise."
Clutching his hand in a desperate clasp, Attie nodded sadly, as tears streamed down her red and puffy face.
"Bury me on an Arkansas hillside, facing west. I'm home now and I never want to leave again."
Attie promised. Then, until the sun had long disappeared below the western horizon, and distant thunder heralded gentle rain, she clutched him to her breast, crying silent tears as she rocked him in her arms.
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