Welcome, to the Land of the Laurels. Part Two.

December 2nd, 2020

Our Dearest Readers, 

Below you will find ‘Part Two’ to our two part series of ‘Welcome, to the Land of the Laurels.’ I will not bother to summarize Part One for you. In comparison to our other blogs, it was very, very…very short. And it would not take you long to breeze through it again. If you choose to ignore Part One and delve straight into Part Two…I don’t blame you. That’s how I read a whole book series sometimes. Oh, hey…Star Wars anyone? 

Yes, we did indeed stick our tree on the tummy t-shirt on a stick. And wave it like a flag.

~Part Two~

Upon returning home from their journey to that seemingly mystical place, they immediately began writing letters. Letters upon letters upon letters….They wrote to one property owner, and then to another…asking…wondering…if they would be willing to sell a portion of their lands to such a young, naïve couple. 

Alas, their noble attempts came to no avail. Disheartened, they proceeded with their search for land in other wooded parts of the County of Perry. All the while, they kept the Land of the Laurels close to their hearts. 

Days went by. Then weeks. Then months. 

Finally, they had hope again. They had found a wooded piece of land in the great archives of Zillow.com, and immediately began to pursue it. It was landlocked, however, and would require a counsel with the lords of the surrounding properties. The young lass and lad rode out on their other, smaller, faithful steed, Sir Subaru BRZ, to deliver a letter beseeching one of the lords access to the locked land. 

Having delivered the letter, and feeling quite adventurous and uneager to return to the to-do list awaiting them at home, they decided to explore. Sir Subaru BRZ also felt quite rompy that day, and was enjoying the backroads and sharp curves. As they twisted and turned their way through the hollows, the lad and lass soon realized where they were. They were but a mountain top away from the Land of the Laurels. 

Remembering the crossroads they had come to when they first encountered the Land of the Laurels, they knew that there must be another way to access that mystical land besides just the rutted drive to Paradise. 

They began to steer Sir Subaru BRZ towards their destined mountain, looking for a way that would lead them to the top. The lad and lass dared not mention to their rompy steed the dangers he may soon face…while quick and nimble, Sir Subaru BRZ was also incredibly squat and low to the ground. He may soon eat dirt on this trip. 

With the help of the all knowing, magical maps of the warlock, Garguffing Google, they found what appeared to be a road leading to the Land of the Laurels. It looked passable, and being admittedly selfish and incredibly curious, they forced Sir Subaru BRZ to make the climb. 

Up and up they went. One side of the road steeply dropped to a wooded valley below, the other side provided brief glimpses of mountain tops. They climbed further.

Trees soon covered any previous view, and it became easy to entirely forget where they were…on what road, in what County, on what land…it was just forest. 

BA BUMP. SCRIIIIIIITCCHHHHHHHHH….

That was Sir Subaru BRZ eating some dirt. 

But only once! Their short and squat steed, while understandably peeved at being in such a foreign environment, courageously continued the climb.

Lane to the Laurels

Nearing what appeared to be the top they thought they saw what looked like notices of sale….could it be?? No…it wasn’t possible. The signs looked old and there was no longer even writing on them. 

Only a short way further, and Sir Subaru BRZ stopped. He had dutifully carried his occupants to the top of the Land of the Laurels. The lad and lass sat. They did not even dismount from their exhausted steed. They were in awe. They were at the exact crossroads that they had stumbled upon only months before. This time, to travel right would take them down the drive to Paradise. To continue straight, would take them only slightly further up the mountain. There were the signs nailed to the tree. And there…just back there…back the way they had come…if not only 20 yards…were notices of sale. Could it be that simple? 

Without giving their now slumbering steed any more time to rest, they turned around and traversed back down the mountain. They clamored their way home. 

There, they sat down to write a letter. 

They wrote a letter to the lord of that land, and asked if it was indeed for sale. As they sent the letter away, they did not expect much. Indeed, they even tried to put it out of their minds. It was just too impossible. Instead, they set their sights and energies on the locked piece of land. 

A day went by. They heard from one of the lords of the land locking in the property. That property would remain landlocked. And understandably so. To pursue it would be to have an aggravated counsel of land lords, and to what end? Maybe the land was infested with pompous pixies anyways. 

A few more days went by. The lad and lass continued their search for land elsewhere. 

Then, one day…the lad received a summons from the lord of the land that was maybe for sale. That little piece of land amounted to just under 3 acres…and it was indeed available for purchase. The lad and lass had just enough silver and gold shillings to afford this little piece of land at the top of the drive to Paradise. 

They agreed to meet with the lord of this land, and he proved to be a most amiable man. He was curious as to what the lad and lass wanted to build…their small earth-friendly abode…and approved of their intentions. 

The land still had some unknowns about it, and the lad and lass began an extensive search to make sure that this piece of property was just perfect for their future home. After months of gathering the final shillings and obtaining satisfactory answers to their numerous questions from multiple entities ~including from the Knights of Building Code Enforcement for their wee township~ the lad and lass sat down with the lovely lord and lady of that land, and proceeded with the purchase. 

It was theirs. The Land of the Laurels. 

Upon the signing of the documents and the good tidings and farewells, the lad and lass bound their way to their new land upon their steed, Sir Chevy Colorado. That day was cold. It was intermittent with furious snow squalls and sheets of hail. The wind whipped Sir Chevy Colorado to and fro as he made his way to the Land of the Laurels. It was quite reminiscent, really, of the day the lad proposed to the lass~ on top of a mountain in the middle of a random, raging, snow squall. In fact, it was almost exactly three years from the exact day that the lad had proposed to the lass…and there they were, dismounting from their steed, walking hand in hand, through their Land of the Laurels. Life has a funny way of bringing things around, doesn’t it? 

I can’t say that is “The End” of this tale…because, as you can see, it really is just the beginning…

I told William to stop taking my picture.

Lots of Love,

the Lord and Lady of the Land of the Laurels

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© 2020 Sustaining Tree

© 2020 Sustaining Tree