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curmugeonIt seems that life is taking more from us as we struggle in this disfunctional world. Our environment is in distress, our food is threatened, and even something so vital to life as water is becoming scarce.
I grew up in simple times, a rural existence, close to nature, with woods to roam through, streams so pure you didn't worry about drinking the water. Natures bounty was there for the picking. We had wintergreen growing wild, then there were blueberries, raspberrys, blackberries, cherries, apples. When I was a kid and needed a snack, I just took a walk. We saw deer, bear, raccoons, skunks, rabbits and other wildlife in our yard. We played in the barn, sliding down from the loft on a pile of hay. I went to a 4 room school house. There were two grades per room. We had at least three school plays a year, I remember learning my lines at school, then the big night when we would perform and the whole town would come out to watch. I remember the county fairs, the fireworks in Bar Harbor on the 4th of July. I remember fishing, following a small brook in search of trout, sometimes for miles into the woods. In winter I remember cold walks to the busstop or even to school. I remember taking my sled up the hill and sliding down n the ice covered road. I remember getting my first "flying saucer" and sliding down a long chute we had carefully groomed on Blueberry Hill...I remember not having ndoor plumbing, and having to go to the outhouse.. Nothing like the thrill of sitting in the freezing cold. I remember the old wood cooking stove in the kitchen. It was a gray porcelain Atlantic. I remember heating water for bath time, and filling the tub with a bucket, adding hot water to find the ideal temperature. After that we would stand in our robes in front of the fire, getting dry and warm at the same time. I remember going with my dad to get wood.. We would work a lot of weekends in summer gathering the stuff that would make winters survivable. I had a bike, but with gravel roads and only one speed, any ride was an adventure. I would ride over to a friends place or out to Donnell's Pond. I remember trips to Alder Brook to get water or to fish. I remember when we would go smelting (catching smelt with a net) or when the local men would build the Alwive trap to catch then smoke the Alewives for eating. I remember going to Trenton to visit my uncle and going clamming. Armed with a study spade fork we would dig in the mud flats to gather cherrystone clams and later celebrate with a clambake or some good New England Clam Chowder. I grew up eating lobster.. My uncles all were lobster fisherman so we had lobster regularly. I remember going to the boathouse and watching my uncles build boats. I remember trips out on the sea to pull the lobster traps from the depths, and harvest the bounty of the sea. I remember flounder fishing from the base of the Sullivan bridge.
I could go on and on, the first twelve years of my like were an adventure, something children of this day can never realize. I now think with the world going to hell fast, that a small cabin in the Maine woods wouldn't be such a bad way to spend my final years. Sure winter can be rough, I know from the times I saw my Dad struggle to go the five miles to work. No, to live out days living as in Golden Pond, hunting the elusive trout, hiking through the woods, maybe hunting for a deer to have meat in the freezer. I can dream at least.
Posted on Dreamwidth
I grew up in simple times, a rural existence, close to nature, with woods to roam through, streams so pure you didn't worry about drinking the water. Natures bounty was there for the picking. We had wintergreen growing wild, then there were blueberries, raspberrys, blackberries, cherries, apples. When I was a kid and needed a snack, I just took a walk. We saw deer, bear, raccoons, skunks, rabbits and other wildlife in our yard. We played in the barn, sliding down from the loft on a pile of hay. I went to a 4 room school house. There were two grades per room. We had at least three school plays a year, I remember learning my lines at school, then the big night when we would perform and the whole town would come out to watch. I remember the county fairs, the fireworks in Bar Harbor on the 4th of July. I remember fishing, following a small brook in search of trout, sometimes for miles into the woods. In winter I remember cold walks to the busstop or even to school. I remember taking my sled up the hill and sliding down n the ice covered road. I remember getting my first "flying saucer" and sliding down a long chute we had carefully groomed on Blueberry Hill...I remember not having ndoor plumbing, and having to go to the outhouse.. Nothing like the thrill of sitting in the freezing cold. I remember the old wood cooking stove in the kitchen. It was a gray porcelain Atlantic. I remember heating water for bath time, and filling the tub with a bucket, adding hot water to find the ideal temperature. After that we would stand in our robes in front of the fire, getting dry and warm at the same time. I remember going with my dad to get wood.. We would work a lot of weekends in summer gathering the stuff that would make winters survivable. I had a bike, but with gravel roads and only one speed, any ride was an adventure. I would ride over to a friends place or out to Donnell's Pond. I remember trips to Alder Brook to get water or to fish. I remember when we would go smelting (catching smelt with a net) or when the local men would build the Alwive trap to catch then smoke the Alewives for eating. I remember going to Trenton to visit my uncle and going clamming. Armed with a study spade fork we would dig in the mud flats to gather cherrystone clams and later celebrate with a clambake or some good New England Clam Chowder. I grew up eating lobster.. My uncles all were lobster fisherman so we had lobster regularly. I remember going to the boathouse and watching my uncles build boats. I remember trips out on the sea to pull the lobster traps from the depths, and harvest the bounty of the sea. I remember flounder fishing from the base of the Sullivan bridge.
I could go on and on, the first twelve years of my like were an adventure, something children of this day can never realize. I now think with the world going to hell fast, that a small cabin in the Maine woods wouldn't be such a bad way to spend my final years. Sure winter can be rough, I know from the times I saw my Dad struggle to go the five miles to work. No, to live out days living as in Golden Pond, hunting the elusive trout, hiking through the woods, maybe hunting for a deer to have meat in the freezer. I can dream at least.
Posted on Dreamwidth
