July 28, 2007

• What’s your favorite childhood memory?

  I remember being in Yellowstone National Park, with the family. I’m pretty sure it was Yellowstone. But the point here is the giant trees. I’d call them red cedar, if I knew for sure. They lined the creek near our canvas-walled hut.

  I remember wandering off alone, and mom was worried about me, but dad said it was OK, and I went and broke through the membrane between the ‘civilized’ world of the gravel road around the camp area, into the rust-and-green-colored natural world. The babbling brook with it’s sandy bottom and little miniature rapids, the cedar branches gently curving and swaying in a breeze as if alive, which, in fact, they were. And there was a trail; a trail to follow. I went up to the top end of the creek, where it came out of the woods to border the campsite.

  A row of trees can be the gateway to the magic kingdom of the wild, to steal an image from someone else. Just how much magic, and just how it works would end up as parameters for future learning experiences.

     

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  • 4:02 am
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