Reading in the Top of a Pine Tree

Donald and I live in the small house I grew up in. My Dad built the house and he, my mother, me and 4 brothers shared 2 bedrooms and 1 bath. We owned 15 acres of dense forest (woods) behind us that my daughter (Dori) would someday search for unicorns. Donald and I have renovated, restored, and refurbished the house into a cottage that we love living in. Mostly those woods are still back there and bring up many childhood memories. I'm sure mine are different from my brothers' memories and definitely different from Dori and her children.

This particular piece of land had many levels of terrain, some very steep, with a running creek meandering through the entire 15 acres so you felt like you were constantly jumping over the creek. Or better yet, crawling across a big old tree whose branch had grown across the creek and you could crawl over it or precariously walk/balance across it. Many trees had knots on them that were big enough to use as a seat. My Dad built a bicycle trail through the 15 acres and kept it clear for our bicycles. Talk about being ahead of your time for rough trail mountain biking and we spent a lot of time on it. Those 15 acres were so dense and mysterious and yet when the sun was shining, the woods glistened like the most ethereal place on earth.

The woods were filled with every kind of tree that exists, a large portion with hardwood trees and an equal forest filled with pine trees.

In the pine tree portion, my brothers and I built many forts where the walls were built of pine needles and our furniture consisted of pine branches and needles. Most of the time I pretended like they were houses and when I was alone in the woods, I would take my book and go into the fort and read. It was so quiet and peaceful.

There were 2 kinds of pine trees on the property. Some were so skinny you could shimmy up halfway, and then ride the tree down to the ground. Wow! What a rush! Other pine trees were as large as, say, a magnolia tree with the same kind of branches. They were lush, green, and the limbs would grow large and down to the ground. So you could climb the pine tree to the top and nobody knew where you were. That's where I did most of my reading in my childhood. I think that's why I love it when I first open a new book - I can so smell those old pine trees wafting out of that newly opened paper. They must make book pages out of pine trees.

I'm sure after I grew up and before Dori was born is when the unicorns moved in because I never thought about them being there, but Dori led her cousin Kacy on numerous hunts for the elusive beautiful beast.

Someone once told me that they thought in my youth, I may have been somewhat of an old soul in a young body. Now in my later years I strive to keep a youthful spirit. That big old pine tree isn't there anymore, but it's my unicorn.