Drawn to the woods as a child
Frogs calling me closer and closer
Springing, splashing through my fingers in the slough in the woods
5 years old up to my knees in water, hunting, obsessed
Screaming, running an orange toothed nutra swims by, spoiling my fun.
Weeding with my grandma, a slithering movement by my hand
A garter snake, its tail wraps around my wrist, its tongue tasting the air
The unpleasant smell of my friend ignored, set free
I will hunt for him again on another day to play.
Near the slough the smell of skunk hits my nose
I hunt, I find the chunky plant with a yellow flower
Skunk Cabbage, the first plant I learn as a child.
Grade school age, camping with family
In the woods near the lake I explore
Along the bank near the shore I reach into a hole and pull out a toad
No fear, obsessed.
Near a fallen log, a movement, a squirrel
I froze, it froze, I watched, it watched, how long? Long.
Stare contest over I wander off looking, hunting
Sticks, pinecones, rocks, wood for the fire
I was in the woods alone, but not.
Campfire smoke surrounds me, engulfs me, imprinting its aroma
Alone in my pup tent, 11 years old, by flashlight I read Psalms
In love with God and His creation, I am thankful for the woods.
High school backpacking trips to the woods, New Testament in my pocket
Everything I need on my back, Freedom!
Most obsessed hiker, drafted hiking club president
Nicknamed Woodchuck, fitting
In my 30’s hiking through the desert
My five youngins with loaded backpacks in tow
I lead, I teach, I show, sharing my obsession
Headed to the trees, to the creek, to the frogs
Leading another generation to see, to hear to connect.
Late 40’s kids grown each blazing their own trail.
Drawn back to the Woods, not alone.
Walking our creek at night watching the beaver family watching us.
By flashlight we pet exhausted salmon as they tread water waiting to die.
In my 50’s, wood stove warmth, we listen to the monkey like sounds of a Barred Owl.
Day packs on we follow our creek we stop, we watch
An American Dipper is diving under the current, hunting bugs, flying underwater
I feel like John Muir.
I look down, a spearhead in our creek, intrigued
Someone was here before, watching, fishing, hunting!
Grandkids in the creek finding fossils, in the woods catching snails, racing snails
They hold a garter snake, reminiscent of myself from years ago
They leave, time passes.
In the field I find a snail with a racing number on his shell, has it really been a year?
Early morning hike through our Bigleaf Maple forest
Eye to eye with a Barred Owl, I freeze as he flys off, his sleep not over.
Up high the moss makes a shape on a branch of a huge maple tree
Flashback, I am 5 years old
It is a perfect Winnie-the-Pooh in My 24 Acre Woods, in our forest
Thank you God for the little things that bring joy!
63 years old, I give a banana slug as a pet to my grandchildren
Fascinated they are by this forest dweller.
Will this generation love God and the woods like me?
Yes!
Caroline Thomas can be reached at abbynormalstories@gmail.com
