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Saturday, August 12, 2006

The Grove


A small town in Idaho, the storybook type, where everyone knew everyone and there was only one grocery store… that’s where I got my start. There was no crime, at least that I, a seven-year-old child, knew about. There didn’t seem to be a need for laws to be enforced, because everyone had respect for others, as well as themselves. So, in this environment, I was free to roam and do anything I desired, with no limitations.

Memories tell me my days were long spent climbing trees, building snow forts, playing hide-n-seek in the cornfield, hauling wood, snapping peas, chasing butterflies and pulling the legs off water skippers. There is a lot the country has to offer to a child. Much more than concrete. Even so, with all the available options, I chose to spend my time in the same place everyday. Redundant as it may seem, it was my favorite place, and I went there everyday, faithfully. Neither time nor season mattered when I was in this sacred spot. I felt safe and secure in this surrounding. I called this small piece of Heaven on Earth “The Grove.”

Here, in The Grove, orchard trees of sour crab apples, plums, and apricots grew thick. The soft green grass grew wildly with bright yellow dandelions. A winding canal wove itself through the middle of this paradise. Its banks were decorated in a blanket of snake grass, daisies, patches of clover and moss. There were fallen trees along the sides of the canal where I sat and dangled my legs into the cool and refreshing water. I spent what seemed to be hours there, just sitting and eating the half ripe, green, sour apples. Feeling the warmth of the sun relax my body, while I listened to the trickling water run over the banks and rocks that echoed the current being pushed along. Birds sang and carried on conversations with each other as I watched them fly from treetop to treetop, wondering what they were saying. The cool breeze that shook the tops of the tall trees caused the different patterns of the shade to dance on the ground around me. Even though this beautiful place was such an awesome sight to see, my favorite part was the smell. The scent of the wild grass, the moist soil, the blooming wild flowers, and the aroma of the sweetly dampened moss were so welcoming. This smell was the sweetest, most recognizable, and most peaceful smell I have ever known.

I spent my entire summers here, everyday, all day long catching water-skippers, frogs, spiders, and snakes. I kept them just long enough to make them my friends, and would then set them free so they too could enjoy the utopia of the surroundings.

At the entrance of the Grove was a large Oak tree with a branch that stretched across the canal, as if to form an arch in which to enter this magical place. From this branch hung a tattered and frayed rope that had been there for as long as I could remember. I climbed the tree and slid a stick into a hole that was knotted in the rope. I took the deepest breath my little lungs would allow and pushed off the trunk of that great tree. I flew over the water until I was as far out as possible, released my grip and fell into the cool running water below that had become my best friend. Floating in the water, I would race the sticks and twigs that swam along beside me. When I reached a tree near a bend in the canal, I grabbed hold of a drooping branch and pulled myself on to the bank and rejoiced in another victorious journey. Here I sprawled again in the warmth of the daylight sun and waited until I was warm enough to again repeat the voyage.

This is where my world began and my appreciation of nature, color, & peace developed. Now, when I return to The Grove, I feel the same excitement and butterflies in my stomach. The tree is no longer there, and the grass in the water nearly reaches the surface. But I inhale deep breaths of that familiar fragrance until I become lightheaded. I pick my apples, smile at the water skippers, and I remember...

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If i were to ever do it - I'm pretty confident this is what i'd do.
But perhaps not right here... peacocks don't do so well in the sand. It irritates their wings.
And not on the back, because I'd want to see it too.