When I was small my family lived in Redmond, Washington.
Redmond was more forest than house in some areas, and I knew all the shortcuts: which yards you could cut through and which fences had holes in them. I used to wander over to Tam O'Shanter Park which, despite its name, was more bog than park. It was the closest thing to an enchanted forest that I knew of.
Tam O'Shanter didn't grow in that orderly, clean way that most pine forests did. It grew in dark snarls of vines and rotting logs. It was primeval. Older kids told me there were tar pits under the ground, and in my mind I imagined enormous, perfectly-preserved dinosaurs lying in wait -- waiting to crunch my bones if I misplaced a step...
In addition to dinosaurs, there were spirits. I thought each cluster of mushrooms I found was a fairy ring. If I held my breath, fairies and leprechauns would creep from their holes and find me there. It's a shame I don't still believe that.
When he was six, he believed that the moon overhead followed him
By nine, he deciphered the illusion, trading magic for fact, no trade-backs
So this is what it's like to be an adult?
If he only knew now what he knew then
8 years ago
8 comments:
Makes me miss Loll all the more!
Gonna make a visit some time this summer for sure...here I come Lake 'O the Woods!
Ahh, Jared. You describe it well. There is something about Washington's forests that inclines one to think romantically -- it enhanced every dream of fairies, castles, and the like. It was just so mysterious and beautiful. I wonder if kids who grow up in a desert area (like Utah) have more childhood imaginations of cowboys and Indians, dinosaurs, etc., and kids near the ocean dream of pirates.
I miss it there, too, but mostly I think I miss childhood.
Man! I can't believe I didn't include Lake O' the Woods (for anyone besides me and Rob: that was the lake that Camp Loll Scout Camp rests on)...It's the high altitude lake in the mountains between Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Park.
You drive up over this pass and down into the valley/bowl with dark green pine and fir trees and the deepest blue lake ever. It is paradise. And Rob and I worked there a summer...
There's something to be said for what you said, Marci, about some of these feelings going back to childhood. That's why I ended my "enchanted forest" entry with a thought and lyrics about losing our imagination and the magic of childhood...I wasn't sure I was going in that direction when I started the entry, but ended up there.
Life is supposed to be enchanting. Why are adults/civilization/government/career NOT...?
There's only ONE Lake of the Woods and it's not in Wyoming. *le sigh* Minnesota is where it's AT!
I deny Chrissa's comment, the real lake o' the woods is just where J described it, in the wilds of yellowstone...pfft, as if some Minnesota lake could even try an compare. 'Tis a sin to mention them together, sorry my hear Loll Chrissa just hasn't been properly schooled yet (ya got work to do J).
Loll ain't got nuthin' on my Land of Lakes, yo! Son, you don't even know :P
Minnesota does have a lot o' lakes...and even has a butter named after them...
But the closest thing those lakes ever came to being in the mountains was when I flexed my pecs.
Lake O' the Woods was neat because it was a lake in the middle of a mountain range...and it was fun to skinny dip in.
Very well written post, J! Made me nostalgic for all the wild places through which I used to trek as a kid, even if those places were effectively in my backyard. There was one particular creek we lived nearby; I'd wander all over the place, trying to follow the water to its source ... or at least as far as I could make it before supper.
The creek was surrounded by trees of all sorts, and the shade beneath their canopy provided blissful reprieve from Florida's heat and a perpetual golden twilight perfect for adventure. Fallen trees spanned the stream in places, forming bridges upon which many valiant albeit imaginary stick cum sword fights took place. Underneath where roads passed over the creek, tunnels had been bored, and venturing through these crypt-like passages, where friendly stream turned to icy inky Styx, always smacked of danger: sounds echoed eerily off the concrete walls, and who knew what lurked in the shadowed corners sunlight couldn't penetrate?
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