I spent a lot of time amongst the trees as a child...no doubt a contributing factor to the reputation I've earned here in Las Vegas as a relentless socialite. But seriously--I grew up on a little farm in British Columbia. Walking out the front door, I faced a mountain and a forest. Out the back door, there was a creek. I know, internet, I know. I have many memories of exploring the creek by myself, stopping here and there to lean against a willow, eyes closed, face to the sun. Pure happiness. My brother and I had a million forts all over the place--some in the trees, some in the tall grass, some in the bushes. I built a fort in a tree by myself once. I managed to nail two boards across a branch and would perch there like a vulture all afternoon, thrilled by my invisibility.
During the summer, when my brother and I were hungry, we would eat the knobby green apples growing in our orchard. Then we would double over in pain. Then we would eat some more.
Also in summer, we would go swimming in the lake...the most lovely, pristine lake known to mankind. The path leading down to the water was lined with ponderosa pines, and the smell of a warm summer day by the lake mingled with fragrant pine...I don't know why someone doesn't try to bottle that.
As I got older, I used to run up the mountain and along a path that led through the forest. In the spring it was not unusual to see fresh cougar tracks in the mud and I would look up at the trees towering over me and wonder if I was being watched. That's how dumb and immortal I was.
The most unforgettable tree memory, by far, involves a climbing race, a white summer sandal, a hive of yellow jackets, and a near death experience. I will tell it to you another day.
Anyway, now that I'm living in Las Vegas I try not to fall into the rut of comparison and torture my husband with constant reminders of how everything is better in Canada (and by "try" I mean whenever it doesn't feel like a furnace outside). One thing that makes it okay, along with the fact that I am carried by a brilliant imagination, is that I don't believe I took those places for granted. Somehow I always knew the world of my childhood was an amazing, beautiful place and I never once grew tired of looking at it.