Once Upon an Adventure

  Have I mentioned that I grew up here, right here?  On this one lane, dead end, dirt road in this very house. The bedroom my husband and I share was the one my parents used, my son is in what was my room. I love this place, for me it is special. A lot of memories and a lot of love linger around every bend in the paths. Growing up here, surrounded by family had a lot to do with shaping who I am. Then there were adventures waiting behind every bush, around every bend in the road and high in the limbs of any near by tree. Life was simple, life was fun, life was innocent. Life, was an imagination gone wild, even while rooted in reality.

   Tugging the imaginary hat down tighter on my head, I put on my most serious expression. It was out there, I could hear it calling to me, and I was going to find it. School was out, summer just starting and there were adventures waiting to be had. My heart was already pounding, my bare feet dug into the sand as a bead of sweat traveled down my cheek. Oh yes, I could hear it, and I was going to answer.

  Walking around the corner of the house I started down into the woods. This path was the steepest of the many that crisscrossed the woods. I was going to have to be very careful as I made my way down. I probably should have taken time to put on my climbing gear but it was too late for that now. I was on my way and I wasn't going back. Using every hand hold that I could find, crevice in the rocks, shrubbery, a handy muscadine vine, what ever I could use, I took advantage of. I didn't want my journey into adventure to end before it really began. I could hear small pebbles rolling away, out from under my feet and down the hill to crash at the bottom. I was really sweating now, trying to wipe it away before it managed to get into my eyes and stung like a thousand bees. I wondered as I made my way down just when this hill became so high and steep. We traveled this path often, had some natural disaster happened when we weren't paying attention causing it to be so steep? Or were my senses on high alert and realizing more as I slowly climbed down? Finally I reached the bottom of the hill, releasing the vine that I had clung to I checked out my hands for scratches or blisters. I was close to the swamp, openings in the skin drew the attention of the ever hungry monster mosquitoes. Monsters that grew so large they could grab and carry off small pets and scare birds right out of the sky. Mosquitoes that the Small ones had been known to capture and train for transportation....but that is another story, another adventure. Today, I was already on a mission. I was checking out the Dirt Road, making sure that it was ready and prepared for Summer and the days and adventures to come. There was also the voice calling to me. I had to find out who or what, or where it was coming from.

  At the bottom of the hill I had two choices. I could go straight and cross the Great Divide, heading out to the Netherlands or I could turn right and go into the Mists of the Swamp. The Mists of the Swamp is where the largest concentration of monster mosquitoes were, at that moment I was not ready to face the risk. I was going to cross the Great Divide. The Great Divide had been created over time by the wet weather spring that flowed through it. Normally dry, when ever there was rain, even those summer showers that were short in duration, had water running. Not deep by that big ditch out in Wyoming standards it was still deep. Nature had made a natural bridge in the falling of an enormous tree, centuries of life ended in one swift moment. Visually I couldn't tell how sturdy and safe it was. I was going to have to go out on it to find out. I was going to have to stuff that fear if heights down into a deep pocket to be able to go out onto the tree.

 Slowly, ever so slowly I took that first step. Reaching out I grabbed a small limb that was sticking upright. Easing my way around it I gave a small bounce, the tree bridge was flexible but seemed safe. The next limb was too far away to reach so I had to very slowly and very carefully ease my way forward. As soon as I was close enough I grabbed the branch and clinging to it, stopped long enough to catch my breath and steady my nerves. I was doing my best not to look down but sometimes the temptations are just too strong. A quick glance down had me clinging tighter to the branch in hand. A small stream flowed beneath me, way beneath me. Some how, an old tire had found its way here. The water flowed over and around the tire, heavy rains had pushed old branches and leaves and created a small cave like dwelling for woodland creatures. The Howler would find it, but that too is another adventure. When I finally made it across I stood in place long enough for the trembling in my legs to stop. Then I turned to look around me. The woods stretched out before me, waiting. Paths went in all directions, one toward the Mainland Roadway, it followed and at times used the creek bed. One went to the Bottomland Gardens, it ran parallel to the Mists of the Swamp but up a bit higher and far enough away from the mosquitoes that they weren't a real threat. Then, ahead of me, was the path to the Netherlands. A place not visited often, a place of mystery, a place of legends, a place were the voice was coming from. It was this path that I was going to follow.

  Before I took those first steps I stood quietly listening. I wanted to adjust to the woods so that I could hear every sound around me and be able to place them. I wanted to know if the sounds I was hearing were any of the various wildlife, the Small Ones, or someone or something bent on evil. It wasn't something that happened often on the Dirt Road..but even a magical place like the Dirt Road was not immune to outside forces. Once I felt in tune with the land around me I began walking. The path began small, you had to know where to look to see it. Even though the many animals of the woods used this path, in my heart I believed that the Small Ones would often find ways to try and disguise it so as to protect themselves from outsiders. Climbing the hill I made my way deeper into the woods. All sounds of modern life had quietened a long time ago. Now, what I heard, all I heard was the sounds of the woods. A slow, gentle breeze caused the leaves high in the giant Oaks to sway slightly. A woods beetle made it's way from one decaying branch to an even more decayed log, crossing over and under the leaves that covered the ground. Somewhere off in the distance an owl called. The quiet could have been unnerving, but I loved it. The quiet did my heart good, and my senses came more and more alive the deeper I went. At the top of the hill I looked out to where the path was obvious and widened

considerably.  Here I could make my way easily.

   I followed the path, knowing from what I had been told in the past that once upon a time this had been a roadway. In the distant past there had been a blacksmith's shop somewhere along the way. Time had taken it's toll and there was no evidence left of it having ever existed, only the memories of those who had known. Just as the House of Lost Dreams would someday be. That too, is another adventure, for another time. Taking an abrupt turn I left the trail, I had to see if what I remembered was still there. Memorial Mound, boulders placed in positions that were made to look random but didn't quite accomplish  the desired effect. One because it was the only place known in the entire woods where boulders that size were found and two, the formed a pattern. Were they still where I remembered them to be and would I feel that same energy that I had when I first discovered them? Would my mind and imagination be filled with the images of waterfalls and wildlife, painted horses and roaring fires. Would my heart beat the the rhythm of drums long ago silenced? As I approached where I remembered the stones to be the sounds of the woods grew even more quiet. This was a special place and even the woods showed a reverence to it. Climbing to the top of one more hill I found them. Walking over to where the stones rested I ran my hand along one of the largest boulders. Its surface was worn smooth by the years of wind and rain. In this place, there was peace. It was a place of love, memories, solitude, but not loneliness. I crossed to a boulder that I could sit on and took a seat. I planned on being there for a while. I had been drawn here, now I was going to give it a chance to teach me.

    The real world's school may be over for the year, but life's school never takes a break. Out here, out where I feel comfortable and at home I listened and I learned. I absorbed what the land offered. When the shade began to deepen I knew I had to head back. It was going to take me a while as I knew I would be moving slower as I digested the food for the heart and soul that the Mystic Woods and the area of the Netherlands had fed me this day. It was the beginning of a great summer and many adventures to come. I had answered that first call, the spirit of adventure knew I was ready, and I knew  the Mystic Woods that the Dirt Road crossed into were ready for me, holding and preparing many adventures. So deep in thought I didn't even notice the height and depth as I crossed over the Great Divide, nor did I notice the steepness of the hill as I made my way back home. There was much on my mind as I thought of what lay ahead. What great adventures were in store, here on the Dirt Road.