topiary cats

topiary cats

Thursday, July 30, 2015

The Woods

One of the few nice memories I have from childhood was being in the woods in my father's backyard. As long as my sister and I stayed on (or near) the property (how were we really supposed to know?) we could roam where we liked.  I had different names for different places in the woods.  We built a bridge across a swampy creek, and it is probably still there. That was some solid construction. We had special boots we wore when we went in the woods, and of course we came home covered in mud.

I used to wander off on my own, to enjoy the solitude, quiet, and connection in those woods.  I felt so deeply connected to all the life around me. It was so deeply peaceful.  I liked the smell of the old fallen wood, the moss, the leaves, the little streams, and the ferns. I still love being in the woods, though no woods are ever quite the same as my woods in Connecticut.

Our clubhouse, as of a few years ago that I know for sure, is still there. My father built it for us, and we drove it on his tractor into a little path in the woods.  It was painted brown, and if you look very closely, in just the right spot, you can see it from the street.

It had a door and windows.  We were going to make it very nice inside but then my mother moved me and my sister to Georgia from Connecticut that same summer, just because she wanted to. The clubhouse still sits alone in the woods today, never used, empty, overgrown.  A shell of what was supposed to be. Something nice ending in a bunch of nothing.

I was nine years old; Daya's age right now.

Woods on Long Island

2 comments:

  1. Woods are such a magical place. The spirits there care. So uplifting. I am glad you have fond memories of the woods.

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  2. Must have been so cool to have a secret place like that as a kid! And it's pretty impressive actually that the thing still stands.

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