Memories and healing along a Dirt Road

My home, The Dirt Road. This place holds memories, is memory. How much fun was had here growing up. Not a question, but a statement of fact. Today, this place is my healing.

How many times as a youth, did I walk this road? How many miles were logged on a bicycle up and down this narrow lane to nowhere and everywhere? The woods that line this road have been home to many grand adventures. Saving homesteaders, discoveries were made, new trails across the wilderness were found.
 In these woods, walking along the mirade of paths that meander through there is a peace. A lovely quiet where most sounds are those of nature. Sounds of civilaztion muted. Often I have walked these paths seeking the peace and healing of the heart.
 As a youth I waded in the creeks, drinking from the places where the water ran fast, or from where my grandfather had sank a pipe deep into the ground where a fresh water spring waited. No bottled water will ever touch that taste. Searching for crawdads in the creeks, chasing tadpoles and catching turtles all along the creeks that crisscross through the woods. Wandering the woods, because I did not fit in with my peers. Wandering the woods and finding a large part of my balance. My family gifting me with the rest. Immaturity and innocence can be a curse or a gift. All that time spent wandering the woods have helped to hone my ability to handle alone time and enjoy it.
 As a teen, I spent the time there as I sought to find myself. Struggling to grow, straining against boundaries, arguements that sent me along the trails to regain control of my temper. Running as fast as I could muster to work the anger out. Knowing my way in those woods, as well as I knew the back of my own hand. Never afraid to go alone, never afraid to go deep into the woods. Enjoying the ability to disappear into another world away fron the one I struggled to fit into.
 As an adult, home from a failed marriage I looked to the woods, but did not follow the trails I love. An adult that thought myself too big for the woods. Too mature to need what was there.
 As an adult facing cancer I returned to my beloved woods. Walking the paths that I had loved as a youth, paths that were filled with memories that came flooding back. The quiet of the woods my healing peace. Even after the many years that seperated my walks, the memories have not dimmed.
 Riding on my grandfather's big red tractor through the woods to the power line in search of the best wood's dirt. Walking the road with dad at Christmas time looking for the best evergreen tree. Sitting in a patch of ferns that grew over waiste high only in one spot, a spot that had to have a spring somewhere underground that just never broke the surface. Thoughts of those challenges of riding bikes down the hill trying to avoid riding right into the creek.
 Walking the paths I have discovered many gifts waiting to be found. Flowers I remembered, but thought long died out still grow there. During those long summer days attracting butterflies and bees along with the occasional praying mantis. Ground hog and snakes, deer and hawk..owl that sit in the trees and watch you pass by. Thousands of photos later, hundreds of miles walked with an uncounted number of hours spent walking I know my contentment. I know my peace.
  These woods, these paths in the woods growing along the side of this narrow, dead end dirt road  is where I find the best of quiet times. It is easy to leave all the noises and concerns of life behind as I walk and listen in the stillness. I feel the healing love, the assuring peace of my Lord walking with me there. Nothing is a distraction, nothing is a disturbance, nothing covers the voice of peace and love.
 That I find here, on this road- that I call home.

a rambling kind of discussing over rambling through the woods

My walks have become a very important part of my daily activities. Even after working a ten hour shift, I walk for about an hour. My walks take me along a set of paths that cut through my parent's property. I know I am blessed to live here.
I know that the weather will turn cold, even though today is perfect. With a Carolina blue sky, just a slight breeze, and the colors of fall exploding all around me, it is an amazing and wonderful experience, walking.
 I have friends that live in the city, I've tried it, I'll be honest, it isn't for me. I'm accustomed to crickets, dogs and owls not the blaring of horns and screech of tires. I work ten hours a day in a manufacturing plant. The noise from the machines is horrendous. Out there in the woods is a quiet that seeps into your soul and brings with it a peace that can't be found elsewhere. Out there, without televisions and telephones and computers and neighbors one can find the perfect place for their quiet time.
 Today as I walked I was trying, really trying to be quiet. I was searching the woods around me for any signs of deer. With so many of the leaves having already fallen I can obviously see a lot farther. I made it to the top of the hill, and took my left turn. I probably moved ten feet or so when I spooked up a deer. I didn't seeit, but I heard it tearing off through the woods. Squirrel do not make that much noise.
I had worn a jacket over my sweater when I left the house. Along with my blaze orange don't shoot me I'm human hat. By the time I made it back to the Dirt Road the jacket was off. I had taken some photographs but with no bees or bugs or butterfly about I didn't take many. I love the colors of fall, but I prefer the colors of the abundance of wildflowers that grow around here.
My husband worries about me walking. I told him that I'm careful, I watch where I'm going and I have people watching out for me. I carry protection and my cell phone. There is also the fact that it would be difficult for anyone to sneak up on me in the woods--I mean really- they simply don't rake out there and with all those fallen and dead leaves one has to walk on making all that noise- I mean really.
I have wood for my woodstove, but most of it needs to be cut to size. With my husband out on the road, and my son working and going to school I'm not sure how that is going to happen.. but I'll get it done, if I have to learn how to handle a chain saw myself..that ought to be interesting...
I believe  I'll take a walk and think that one over----

   As a youth this road played a large part in our games.  Up until we reached a certain age our range was limited. We could ride from our parent's driveway to our grandparent's driveway. Trying to sneak past drew some serious repercushions. With there being so few families living on the raod at that time there was little to no threat of vehicular traffic interupting our games.
   On our bikes we were part of a parade. Streamers in the form of strings and cloth strips blew in the breeze from our handlebars. Playing cards had the wheels kicking up the sound that became so familiar we could hear it in our sleep. We lined up and rode in circles showing off to each other being that there was no audience as we pretened. We were racers, one would draw a line in the sand and we would take our places. With the drop of an arm we were racing.  While we never had the wild stunt boards of today, we had fun in our own right. Fun that I wouldn't take anything for the memories. Riding in the winds, arms spread wide, laughing as we made our way down the road.
  We searched for unusual stones every time a load of rocks was brought in. We could spend hours searching for the rock with the most sparkle. Fools gold made for some interesting games.
  Along this road we traveled to many different times and places.  Not far from the river it was a well traveled route for trading. It was a route soldiers had taken. Along this road we made great discoveries. Along this road we began to grow into who we would become.
  Not too long back I did some bike riding along the road. I smiled and laughed as the memories came flooding back. Arms spread wide, laughing as the wind blew past. Remembering the freedoms of youth. Remembering how a simple narrow dead end dirt road can become the gateway to imagination.