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 As soon as I walked outside, I was greeted with the shimmering white blanket of cold. Despite the chill overwhelming my skin, inside I was warm. I felt as though I could be giving off heat; I head the desire to stay out in this freeze for hours. It was the type of day that speaks to you through its elements; I took a deep breath to hear more. snow was coming.
As I walked I looked up, trying to realize what made this day so beautiful, so serene. It was as if time had been put temporarily on hold and I along with it. Or maybe I was the only one unpaused...
Either way, the solitude was comforting, and I sensed myself floating away. I sat down on the edge of a curb and listened. All there was to hear was the wind rushing over the top of my head and circling some old, cracking leaves some yards away. To me it was the reassuring sound of nature, trying not to be forgotten.
It did start to snow. None of those little flurries, but big, fat flakes which clung immediately to their surface.
Then it was time to go and my reverie had to end. As I began walking again, I drifted back into this time frame, calm and cleared. Now if only I could remember where I was going.
--Rebecca Turko The hemlock scent is rich and familiar, and the hemlock cones crunch beneath my tough, bare feet. The currants are ripe, and summer is dancing. I pop a few tender, glowing red berries into my mouth. Beneath my feet rolls soft, mossy grass and a little knoll that leads down to the stream where a curly-haired kid catches crayfish. The huge, sagacious hemlocks hang heavily above the silent water. Water bugs dart about on the surface of the water, and watercress grows in wild abundance. Along the rock wall sit memories and feelings, kept forever in each rock's voice. Up farther now, through the emerald ferns, skunk cabbage and cushioned earth, is the old spring house where time has faded a once usable structure...the world is wild, and summertime has wings. And then it is gone. Autumn cries in a sharp, clear voice that life is fresh and life is change. Rugged treks stick burrs on our clothes, and the cold weather makes me feel strong. Winter brings a sea of ice and play, and we feel hot from sledding. Being outside is exhilarating, and being inside is lazy. Springtime calls me form beneath the window, and the touch of sun kisses the water bugs and the garter snakes. The shoes come off and stay off and summer cries again. What do I feel about this place? I feel the childhood of another time where boys wore suspenders and summer was life. I forget the place I'm filling in everywhere else. I feel the soft ground and cool water on my feet, always bare. And I feel the callouses getting tough again. I feel the jet black rocks with my fingers and the stories in my head. The world is tiny compared to the place by the stream. The air has a distinct freshness, the warm scent of grass and the hemlocks. time is washed away. My life itself is forgotten, and I'm the kid down the street.
--Annie Jacobs |
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