Its the Simple Things - Cherished Childhood Memories

Growing up in the country was, in many ways, a gift. I am convinced that there exists no better place in the world for a young boy than the great outdoors; full of wide open spaces to run, forests to explore, trees to climb, and ditches and streams to wade in. The country side is a magical place where a young boy can put his imagination to work and live out big adventures every single day.

It is often the simple things that form the basis of our most cherished childhood memories. I remember with great fondness just lying down in bed on an early summer evening. With my head on my pillow I could gaze out my bedroom window at dusk, and see the patch of woods that was my backyard bathed in a glorious golden hue as the sun began to set. This was a special soft kind of light that only occurred at a certain time of evening at a certain time of year, and I believe that if heaven existed here on earth, this is what it would look like. I would look outside at those trees; those great Pines and Oaks and Ashes and Catalpas which provided food and shelter and shade to so many living things. I would watch the squirrels playing chase; zipping up and down and around a tree, now leaping to another and then another while the robins and blue jays and cardinals flitted from branch to branch. Down on the ground a rabbit or two would occasionally make an appearance, but they weren't as playful as the squirrels; the rabbits were always nervous and untrusting, staying on high alert as they nibbled their way along the edge of the tree line.

Slowly but surely the golden light of dusk would give way to dark, and now the fire flies would join the show, lazily flying this way and that, briefly turning on their glowing lights from time to time, just to assure me that they were still out there. At length, my eyes would grow heavy and I would succumb to the sweet promise of sleep, in the background a beautiful chorus of sound; the chirping of crickets, the croaking of frogs, the chatter of locusts, and the sweet singing of the birds...

These memories of childhood sights and sounds are strong and powerful and profound. Even now when I hear the call of a locust I am immediately transported back in space and time, to my little bed in our old country farm house; comfortable and secure, gazing out my bedroom window at all of nature's glory. And for that moment at least, all is right with the world.