My great grandfather built my nanny and poppy’s house. I lived there for the first nine years of my life. But it was the land the house occupied that I remember most.
There was a split rail fence that ran along the edge of the yard. Next to the split rail fence there was a small red rose bush. I had pricked my finger on it one summer. I had learned to never touch the beautiful but dangerous bush. That same summer I studied the bush. It had deep green leaves,and red supple blossoms. And of coarse there were the thick green brown stems with jagged thorns.
At the other end of the fence stood a lilac bush, it had an intoxicating scent. In order to capture their aroma I would break off the lilacs and set them by my bed. They would never last too long. But the soothing summer air would always be filled with their heavy perfume. Or the scent of ripening apples, for in the middle of nanny and poppy’s yard stood a great apple tree. There were always apples scattered on the ground beneath the tree.
Around the side of the house was a brick barbecue that my father built. I can still smell the charcoal in that old brick barbecue. On summer nights with a cool breeze in the air we would barbecue on it, and eat outside on my grandparent’s picnic tables. To the left of the picnic tables there was a fenced in section of the yard where poppy grew carrots, tomatoes, green beans, cucumbers, strawberries and lettuce. Across the lawn from the apple tree was a swing set painted red, blue and silver. It had a slide, two swings, and a teeter totter.
Late at night my cousins and I would capture fireflies. They glowed like a thousand tiny lanterns against the ebony sky. I used to set them in jars and put them by my bed. Breathing in the night air was different from breathing in the heavily perfumed air of daylight; it was cooler and filled me with excitement.
I can recall chasing my cousins around the yard all of us unaware of how soon time would eat up our childhood. When twilight approached the adults would come out to cook on that brick barbecue. After eating dinner my grandfather would put on Johnny Cash. The adults were getting louder now the night air had quickened their aged blood.
Like every other summer night my cousins and I were catching fireflies. I was chasing a firefly when it flew into the surrounding woods. I listened to the strange sounds contained within the darkness. The edge of those woods is where you stepped from the magic of nanny and poppy’s backyard into the dangers of the dark woods. I stopped and looked into the woods.They were so mysterious and foreboding, mainly due to the fact that I wasn’t supposed to enter. For that reason is why those dark woods held such intrigue for me.
On that particular night my childhood curiosity got the best of me and I stepped into the overcast forest. I felt like Alice in wonderland when she followed the rabbit into the unknown world. Unlike her I didn’t meet any eccentric tea drinkers or disappearing cats. I walked deeper into my forest unbeknownst to me the strange noises that had lured me would eventually frighten. I was reminded of a story my grandfather would read to me.
The murmuring forest was my favorite tale out of all those he would tell. I thought back to the story. I decided to search for the master of the forest as told in the story. Looking up I could see the wind blowing the branches back and forth. The moon hung in the dark sky, when I looked at the glowing orb I felt excited. Again I recalled the tale of the master of the forest. I walked deeper into the unknown searching for him. I would never see him but I would see his destruction. In the story an old man speaks to a younger one about the murmuring forest. On a clear day a tree would murmur and talk to itself.
But one night the master of the forest came and uprooted trees. The oldman said he was a hideous sight to behold. But I was determined to find him for some reason I could not identify. As I walked onward the strange noises that once filled me with curiosity now scared me. I heard screeching, howling and the wind got fiercer. Suddenly I didn’t want to meet the master of the forest; I just wanted to go home. I looked around, trying to remember the way back to my grandparent’s yard. I could hear the master of the forest uprooting trees and crashing lightning. I started to run when the rain began to fall.
“Marge!”I heard my name being yelled.
“I’m over here.” I screamed back.
A few moments later my father appeared and I ran to him.
“What are you doing here?” He asked.
“I was just trying to to.” I stammered.
“Don’t you ever do this again.” He scolded.
He picked me up and carried me back home to the yard. The very next night I was back to chasing fireflies. And once again one flew into the surrounding woods. I decided not to follow this time. I didn’t want to explore the dark woods of adulthood; I had the rest of my life to do that. As for right now I would stay in the magical backyard of my youth.
