The Mountains That Made Me
The Appalachians are among the oldest mountains on Earth, born of powerful upheavals within the terrestrial crust and sculpted by the ceaseless action of water upon the surface. — Encyclopedia Britannica
Those mountains still stand, mostly intact, though smaller now than they must have been in the Precambrian era, or the Paleozoic age, or even the Permian Period — those abstract calendars to track the world’s unfolding, some of which predate animal and plant life. Then, there was only heat and pressure, a recursive destruction that created new substances, again and again, giving birth to our most treasured and unyielding forms: marble, quartz, granite.
I imagine visiting such an era. At first, it would be a welcome respite from the clanging world, quiet and still. But that vast silence would grow, as would the invisible threat of a lifeless world. And then the earth would collide into itself once again, erupting and exploding. When the echo of that deafening blast finally faded and the waters receded to claim their oceanic thrones, the Appalachian Mountains would be born: majestic, beautiful, singular.
This land was formed by powerful upheavals of the terrestrial crust — eruption — and ceaseless action of water upon the surface —…
