A Quiet Place at my Grandparent’s

 

When my head is too full of today and tomorrow to write about them, my thoughts go back to past places and times.  I would like to tell you, dear reader, about a special, quiet place at my grandparents.

My grandparents had a small farm and were great naturalists.  They kept journals of bird sightings and daily weather logs.  They had ferns transplanted from the woods, in the yard, and coral honeysuckle, and smoke bush.  My grandfather had cut rough-hewn benches out of logs and placed them at nice vantage points in the yard.  There were so many places at their home that delighted my young self.

But one place was a favorite.  It seemed far away from the log house, but in reality I am now sure it was quite close.  It was a small pine grove, allowed to grow within mown fields.  I used to take myself there when I was in a mood, or when I was on my mission to see deer.

Now we have an overabundance of deer.  But when I was little they were rare and I hoped, hoped, hoped, summer after summer visiting my grandparent’s place in Ohio, to see one.  I would creep to the pine grove, quiet as an Indian.  I would sit and still my body and breathing, willing them to think I was part of the wilderness and wander in unaware.

There were wild roses there, too, climbing the fluffy, long needled evergreens.  I learned the difference as a child between old fashioned, adaptable wild viny roses and the tender and difficult hybrids with their perfect petals, layer encircling layer.  Wild roses have only a few petals, laying flat.  Sweet and pink, yellow dotted stamens inside, filling the summer air with a rosy scent.

After awhile, probably not long, I would head back to the house.  Still quietly I would go, turning back to look and see if I was just missing them- the elusive deer.  Quicker as I got closer to the porch, then inside splashing my dusty hands with water from the red pump at the kitchen sink.

What a pleasure it is to have this place, to revisit in my memory.

06

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4 thoughts on “A Quiet Place at my Grandparent’s

  1. My favorite part is “quiet as an Indian”, the deer picture and the “red pump”. I felt like I was in a Little House book reading this!! What a special place. No wonder you LOVE nature so much. Thanks for sharing.

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  2. This is such a beautiful description of a precious memory. I LOVE your use of “dear reader”! Charlotte Bronte uses that phrase, too, in one of my FAVORITE BOOKS OF ALL TIME–“Jane Eyre.” I fell in love with this post in that sentence. All of my fondness toward that book welled up when I saw those words on your post. Thanks! 🙂

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  3. This post let me leave my today and tomorrow behind and after breathing slowly while that deer watches me, I’m thinking of my own peaceful places that save allow me to leave the day behind for a little peace of mind.

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