Wednesday, November 17, 2010


The leaves have almost all fallen. It seems to me that there were more leaves this year. The shade was deeper this summer and the layer of leaves deeper this fall.

The green grass lies covered in a blanket of brown. Moving quietly across the yard takes all the training my daddy gave me as a child.

I remember our walks in the woods vividly. He taught me the names of trees and plants. He taught me to love the woods and the creatures that inhabit them.

He taught me how to walk quietly in new fallen leaves. (I frustrated him no end, however, for it was much more fun to kick them and hear the  crunching, swishing sounds as they flew skyward.)

I did learn though; and could slip up on rabbits, squirrels and other creatures with ease by the time I was nine.

Hmmm. When I was nine. Oh, what a long time ago that was! I try not to think about it very often.

Daddy was my age when he was teaching me woodland stealth. Maybe I could teach my great-grandchildren. Of course, they may think I am crazy if I show them how to walk “Indian style” through the woods. In the days of computers and video games, walking silently through new fallen leaves is not very exciting .

It was fun half a century ago though, walking in the woods with Daddy. That’s what really matters to me.

Strange, isn’t it? The small everyday events and actions done by a parent can, in the future, become so strong a memory in the child turned adult.

Blessed Be.

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