The Woodlands of my Childhood.

This last weekend, I had the privilege of returning to one of favorite places as a child.  Accompanying me was my dear friend of countless years.  What follows are images and pieces of reminiscing of our days of old.  

View from the new house.

 To say that the urge to channel my inner 9 year old self and walk to the end of this fallen tree was intense was an understatement. 

 Elle's favorite tree.

 I could look at these trees all day, every day, and I would be happy the whole time. 

 Where the old "bridge" used to be with the rope swing.  We've spent far too many hours at this spot. Laughing, gossiping, talking about boys, pretending and fighting. 

 I miss the old days when we would search for frog eggs in these seasonal pools...

...and run through the deciduous under story brush as though our lives depended on it.

The gnarled leafless branches dripping with moss were a stark contrast to the leafy maze of our magical childhood summer realm.

 This beasty. We were so irritated when we had originally found it and the others that dot the landscape. Eventually it became one of our hiding places between our various forts and safe havens.   

 One of my favorite trees.

 I will never tire of seeing this.

Like walking back into a dream of old.

 Elle's realm.. The older sister who would play with us. But usually ended up being our enemy whether she knew it or not. 

 One final strike against her rule, for old times sake.

 One of the old paths still lays true.

 My accomplice throughout the years, once again at my side.

 One beautiful and dark forest if I've ever seen one.

 My old nemesis.  Fell into this hole sledding when I was about 13.  Thought I died for about 5 seconds. 

 The old house. Both of us remembering it being larger, taller, stronger. It's state of abandonment was painful to see.  In it's former glory years, she was our strong hold, our Jolly Roger, our homestead, country estate. 

 You will always have a spot in my heart, dear friend.

The old road down to the creek.  Many a trip was plotted and organized on this walk down hill. 

 The old front porch swing tree. 

 The apple tree that we spent many hours telling our secrets to. Shouting, swinging, and laughing. Its current state looks like a page out of a fairy tale.

 This was my spot.

 The hay barn.

 Our old nemesis: Himalayan black berries.

 View from the barn.