Awakened memories

I was sitting out on the deck enjoying the warm southern breeze that is attempting to draw moisture into this day of sunshine. The temperatures already hit the high nineties most of the time and a little rain would be welcome but it would be preferable if it would come during the workweek and not the weekend when you actually have time to do something recreational. There's an Althea tree (not sure if that's an accurate spelling) with lavender blooms which always makes me think of my grandmother's house and the times spent there for she had two planted at her front door. Days spent playing with cousins in the cornfields, hiding and making forts; chasing chickens and being general pests; playing quietly in the shade of an ancient oak marking out roads and building twig bridges in the dirt for the few plastic cars at our disposal because we were banned from the house and admonished not to leave the shade tree unless we wanted to have a keen switch taken to us; running through the kitchen for the water dipper used by all....no soft drinks for us; waking to the smell of bacon and coffee while rain pitter-pattered on the tin roof and listening to the muted voices of the adults; napping beneath the relieving soft breeze of an oscillating fan with metal blades which would remove a finger if you were stupid enough to stick one in between the wire casing; warm biscuits with real butter and maple syrup......gosh, the more I sit here and think, the more comes to mind. Those were the best of times in my childhood for home never seems as memorable.

Another tree, a huge symmetrical cedar, is within my view from the deck as well. The lower branches hang low casting shadows and offering inviting seclusion. This brought to mind a willow which grew in the yard of one of my childhood homes and, if you're familiar with weeping willows, the delicate branches resemble the arching flow of a a water fountain which cascade down to touch the ground creating a perfect hiding place for a child. Being the one child in the family who preferred solitude, I discovered all the possible areas to provide myself with that away from the four siblings. Often I'd part the thin, soft green tendrils of the willow to enter the hollow created between trunk and branch and then carefully close them behind me so that I escaped everyone's notice. I'd hear them passing by going about their own activities but not reveal myself until my mother's call. I'd have been 4 or 5 at the time, I believe. Come to think of it, the other hiding place while living there was beneath the house itself. The crawlspace was cool and damp compared to the southern heat and I'd sit just inside the opening to have the light to play by or sometimes crawl to the front of the house where I could hear the voices and other sounds of activity from above.

I've always loved trees and spent many happy, solitary moments hidden within the branches of many even into my teenage years. Though I will still occasionally climb one, I most often now content myself with sitting beneath one to read or to contemplate life. As for the comfort I receive from secluding myself and why I seek it, I'm not sure nor am I going to dwell on it right now.