Woodland Scenics Part 1

I grew up roughly a mile away from the downtown area of Grand Rapids, Michigan. The hum of tires and the sound of truck engine braking (rather loud downshift gear noise) was prominent from the expressway from the top of the hill to the northwest of my childhood home. In the summer, the street and sidewalks were hot and hard...nothing like stubbing your big toe on a slab of unforgiving cement.

What luck though to grow up three houses away from an area of woods untouched by human hands, well, at least untouched by human machines. As a boy and with friends, we touched this area of woodland with hands, and shovels, digging into the earth and making our "forts", breaking off sticks and using them as makeshift guns to play "army", sitting on the huge fallen tree which sat at the top of the woods, picking off its dying bark and chatting about the world beyond our gathering place.

In the summer, thick within the foliage fold of green, it was like walking in a faerie kingdom. The sun filtered through the canopy of trees in golden beams, it was like walking through warm spotlights. The area was alive with squirrels rummaging through the ground cover. A occasional rabbit would burst from the brush and be lost amongst the greenery. In the winter, the white snow lay thick upon the ground. The trees bare and brown. The sky above, void of green canopy for cover, was leaden and cloud-clogged. It was a quiet place with the chill breeze blowing about the sleeping woodland, woodland waiting for the warmth of the spring sun to touch it again. We would go sliding here, not far from the warmth of our homes.

The woods near the house was a bonus playground in the middle of the city.

How lucky we were indeed.