Tuesday, March 10, 2015

Feel it in my bones

I feel it in my bones, this call of the woods. The birds scolding the invaders of their sanctuary. Spring shoots climbing from under the fall and winter blanket that warmed the earth beneath the snowfall. Dampness pervades each step. The air is rent by the crack of a twig. A deer? A rabbit? A yeti? When I lived on Neff Road, the crack of a twig could possibly mean that Doris Lavy was on the same trek. It was mushroom hunting time.

In just a couple of weeks, I will return to my roots. With only a few days to visit loved ones, walk my favorite road and poke around Greenville, I'm wondering if those spongy-headed gnome-like mushrooms will be popping up. How I would love to hunt them one more time. In fact, I would miss my class reunion to go looking for them if need be. I haven't been mushroom hunting since I was a teen living back the lane. It is important!

Probably the only thing that might compete with the hunt would be to sit by the pond with an old cane pole bearing a red and white bobber on the line. Again I could sit by the woods in the quiet of the day just sitting and watching. Doing what I had done dozens of time as a kid. The kid might be all grown up....well, more than all grown up....but still misses those times that I loved then and love now.

My sisters find it hard to return to Neff Road. I experience the pain of loss each time I return. The changes have sought to erase that which was before, but in the memories of we who lived there, the past remains the same.

I know that my dad felt the same when many of the trees were chopped down to allow more farm land. This countryside was not settled all that long ago if you look back in the number of generations. It was settled by a few who discovered the richness of the land then more came. Changes came with the advent cars and tractors. And, in my lifetime, it changed with the passing of the older generations to the influx of the new with bigger equipment and larger farms. Sometimes a house torn down to make room for more tillable land. Still with all the changes the mushrooms continued to grow and the fish still found life in the pond.

I guess it is silly the things we miss. Shoefly pie, barn swing, baby lambs, mushrooms and a fresh catch of fish. In a couple of weeks, the old days will wrap around me and keep me company. Sure would like a batch of fresh mushrooms.

1 comment:

Axiesdad said...

I'm right there with you. For me it was long afternoons spent along the creek. We were so blessed with our country childhoods. Thanks for taking me back there once more.