Boo Loves Nature: My Childhood Woodland Realm..

In feeling oddly motivated, I decided to tromp around outside in the beautiful weather and visit places of my childhood once again. This is similar to the large earlier post of 'woodlands of my childhood' save the fact that this is at my parents' property and the former is at a friend's. We are separated two miles by road, four miles by creek. And yes, that's always how I've noted where we live in relation to each other. One main difference between my section of woods and hers was that mine has a greater overall topography changes while hers was much more flat. Needless to say, we shared a creek, woods, and rampant imaginations while growing up. What follows is my personal rediscovery to my woodland realm..

The old abandoned tree house, one of the closest "dwellings" to the actual house that we used.

I remember my dad began filling in this area without realizing it was one of our primary summer play areas.

One of the main paths down to the creek. Well, one of four.

The bridge over the bedrock waterfall, dying of old age and abandonment. I remember once I decided to jump off of it. Not one of my best ideas. But something that I've oddly never regretted doing. It still brings a smile to my face when I think of how utterly stupid it was and how fortunate I was that I didn't get hurt.

I've always loved this tree. This could have been the second star to the right. That's how much of a land mark it was for me. Just seeing it, being near it, enveloped in its shade made me feel safe, at home, and full of promise of adventure.

This time of year, our little creek is swollen with winter rainfall and running rampant.

Much of the edges have eroded and changed over the years, but luckily these two grandfather types are still here with their toes in the seemingly ever present pond.

I found about ten or so of these abandoned little homes on my trek today. I've always loved finding shells. For me, for some reason, it's like finding little nuggets of gold throughout the forest.

I can never tell which I love more: the big leaf maples or the ferns.

The large once fallen tree that I used to sit on for hours on end staring at the water as it flowed on is no longer there. There's no trace of it save my memories. When I saw the lack of its presence, it was as if I was a ghost haunting the site. It was as if the section of my childhood closed long ago without anyone truly knowing the hour of its happening.

A site I will always love to behold.

The view of most of my summer days.

The strong hold of an old stump and our look out is returning to the earth it once came from. And need I say in one of the most beautiful ways possible.

The solitary swing on the first big leaf maple I climbed to its peak. If I could, I would take this tree with me where ever I go.

I remember this odd, naturally occurring 'room' in the midst of a sea of alder trees. We used this for everything: a living room, a holding cell, to a camp site, a stage, an agility course...