The woods have been home to "Weapon X" and numerous other forts; a host of hewn-out pathways that criss-cross in a delightful maze that supports fantastic games of night tag; time capsules and journals have been buried beneath its' thistled brow; and each of my children at one time or another have taken up an introspective rest under the shade of a tree, with a book, or a stick for drawing on the ground. Hordes of children have gathered there for great games of 'war' and imaginative fantasy lands of kings and castles and svelte princesses in need of saving.
The DellDog has run with great fervor along the pathways, playing his own version of tag with the children, and Gil and I have often wandered there ourselves, searching for a moment of solace with nature.
The woods have been key to our overall health and perspective on life. They've produced a sense of well-being that cannot be erased, nor created in say, a cement jungle such as Los Angeles.
I suppose it is only natural, and I should find it no surprise that Keller is drawn to this forested spot, this refuge that graces our home. Yet surprise me it did, as his little fourteen month old feet made a bee-line for the mouth of the forest. His brow intent on a destination somewhere within the jowls of trees and brush and grasses taller than he.
What tales will he create in his imaginative play as years go by, within its' secreted walls? What sling-shots will be slung; what time-capsules buried; what forts will be built? What bears will be defeated as they reach for turkey high in the sky - and what will Momma's heart say as she watches him grow as the years go by?