Sunday, October 19, 2008
Come For a Walk With Me
I live not far from the house I was raised in. Periodically I get so homesick for the woods and fields of my childhood that I go back to walk the familiar paths. I took my camera on today's jaunt. Come with me on up the hill...
There are meadows on both sides of the road edged with woods that stretch for miles. This whole street was my playground and I spent most of my waking hours out of doors.
A mile or so from the old homestead is the sledding hill, a now defunct meadow grown over with barberry bushes and small trees. From where we're standing, the snowy trail was an exhilarating slide over jutting rocks, small bushes and a thorn tree at the bottom. Today the sun is warm and the chill wind is buffered by the trees. Let's sit awhile and watch the red tail hawks ride the updrafts.
I was often scolded by the farmers on my street for setting hands full of milkweed fluff free to float over their meadows. None of those farmers are left today but the magic of flinging the silken seeds to the wind is still alive.
Lean your arms on the fence and drink in the view - I herded cows toward the barn at milking time through this meadow and helped hay the hidden hillside fields beyond the tree line.
I often brought a book to this tree. When I was younger, and the branches were lower to the ground, I'd climb to a seat on one of it's outstretched arms and read for a while. More often, I'd just sit there in the company of the dreaming tree and watch the wildlife around me.
I love my little cottage but there are days when I simply must go back to the places that nourished me long ago. Thanks for coming along.