My Nature Piece ala Thoreau

There used to be a farm house three miles outside of Sac City. Driving to the north you would come upon an ess curve and breaking it in two was a gravel road, practically nonexistent, that lead to a big yellow square house. The exterior of the house needed a coat of paint badly, but the inside was perfect. It was a home inside--a warm place to hide from the adventures in the backyard. (And to collect necessary sustenance in the form of fresh baked snicker doodles.) But back to the adventures. The ugly yellow house stood on an acre of land--land that was diverse; land that offered games and challenges; land that beckoned to a young soul to come and explore. And so my brother and I did.

In the southwest corner rose a rock pile made of all the gigantic rocks--more like boulders--pulled from the surrounding corn fields.Here dangerous sword fights took place. Up and down the rock pile we went until tired one of us would "accidentally" stumble and the fight was over. The old mulberry and crab apple trees were near the northwest corner. Here monkeys lived and gymnastics was practiced. The propane tank was our trusty steed, patiently waiting in the northeast section until we were ready to play Cowboys and Indians. (The politically correct "Native Americans" had not yet been adopted at this time.) Sometimes we would chase each other-one of us sitting on the rear of the tank and the other on the front. Fingers would be pointed in the air as guns and tree branches would be drawn from sheathe. We of course knew Indians and Cowboys didn't have swords, but we made due with what we had; plus, Mother watched like a hawk through the kitchen windows and had we thrown spears the consequences would have been dire. Thus, swords it was.

On my own I would watch the leaves fall from big oak trees. I pretended they were racing. All the leaves piled together when a strong wind would blow and as if a starting pistol had been fired off the leaves would go. Barefoot or not, I would run among them.

Now I look back and am thankful to my outdoors adventures. Thy are an outdated activity. My nephews, the only children I have a regular connection with, do not go outside unless forced. The screen door does not slam. Parents do not yell about air conditioning/heating the whole of outdoors. Instead there is silence and an occasional beep. X-boxes, PSPs, Gameboy Advances, iTouches, Playstations 1, 2, and 3, Wiis. They are now where adventures occur. Gone are the stick swords and racing leaves; replacing them are Halo and Mario Cart. Fresh, crisp, clean air has evaporated; stale, Frebreeze filled air has risen in its place.