March 10, 2019

I wonder who dug the hole under the fence so I could climb under and through into my favorite place to be — here, surrounded by wilderness.

I know that this is forbidden land because there’s an Air Force airport somewhere.  But I’ve never gone close enough to see anything but birds, bushes, trees, flowers, and stuff.

But now it’s winter, and I’ve brought my new ice skates.  There’s lots of icy places to skate here.

The air was crisp.  I put my skates on and tingled with delight — and apprehension.  I really didn’t know how to skate!

Ah, a fleeting moment of joy gliding on a short patch of ice — and then suddenly one leg sunk down and down and down.

Is this what they mean by the word, “marsh?”  Yep, I pulled out a leg encrusted in mud.

Messy, but no damage done that couldn’t be washed off.  It only made me more ready to try again.

The next time, I brought my baby skis and slid and slipped and fell down what surely was a mountain to me.

Years later, showing this wonderland for the first time to my granddaughter, I paid homage to this still remarkable untouched piece of wildness on the other side of the hole under that fence where I first fell in love with nature.

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