I grew up on the shores of a small pond in a remote town in New Hampshire. The Pond, as we called it, was THE place to be. There was a trail that went around it, we called it the Path- and it had lots of rocks to climb over. And little streams that fed off the main water- where we made “bridges” out of old planks of wood from any one of our parents barns. On the very edges of the Pond, there were cattails by the thousands, and in the shallow waters- lily pads. Big and small.

We built tree forts and dug deep holes in the dirt along the Path- where we would bunker down for a day of imaginary games and wars and whatnot. I recall spending every day of the summers here- playing around this body of water that became a part of life. In the winter, we would ice skate on the pond and cheat the Path…we could build igloos on the ice and dig into HUGE snowbanks made by drifting winds. No matter what time of the year, the Pond offered us endless hours of fun.

My neighbors were my friends and they still are to this day. Kim and Jimmy grew up with me in this obscure place. Today, Kim and I went for a walk around the Pond, along the old Path. Brought back lots of memories.

The Pond had an abundance of wild flowers and bushes growing around it. Every variety of vegetition could be seen- flowers, trees, fruit bushes and grasses. Moss, mold, algae. It was a very cool place to be if you were a kid! The deep woods had a special scent to them- I can’t describe it. Part moss, part wet dirt…pine pitch from the thousands of trees of that variety…we liked to go there after it rained more than any other time. The leaves were slick and one had to be careful or fall.

The scents and scenes haven’t changed through the years. Kim and I noted right off- an old familiar place with the same boulders and other landmarks long since forgotten about, were still there. We recalled certain games and tasks we did around these areas- and we could almost hear the ghosts of ourselves out there- laughing, yelling, calling each other names and teasing- from way back in the early 1970’s. We came across old trees with our names inscribed into the bark with little pocket knives we had back then. It’s amazing how Mother Nature doesn’t erase these things. It’s been 30 years since we have been to the Pond.

As we walked along the Path, we wandered off of it to see long ago places of fun and frolic. There was the small hill of boulders which I sat on one day, only to get stung by a hornet because it was a nest I actually rested upon; then there was the old beat up log that Kim tried to do some acrobats on one day- only to get snarled up with some snakes who happened to call this their home. And the little stream that had a very weak log bridge over it- that Jimmy stepped on and quickly busted- and he fell into the cold stream and got caught up in the little waterfall that it turned into. We all survived these little mishaps and it made Kim and I laugh.

Things looked different. The Path was much bigger when we were kids. Or so it seems. Alot of tall grass has grown over it- what used to be a very distinct path is now a narrow rugged trail that one needs boots on to maneuver about. Some parts of this Path have been washed away and we had to look at the Pond to gain perspective as to where we were. As then, a lot of mud is everywhere.

Our houses that we grew up in are still standing. Kim grew up in a two story Cape Cod style house- with a huge yard and a long driveway with the white fences and stonewalls surrounding it. Jimmy’s house was a ultra modern thing of it’s day- half of it was underground and the other half barely above ground. Strange, on his property, his folks had a big red barn. They had a small farm too with horses and some cows, chickens, geese. The farm is gone along with the barn, but the house is still there. As it once was. My house was a gambrel style- big, three stories and we had a barn and a long driveway. We also had a boat house with a small boat we used to go fishing. It’s all still there.

In our yards we had dandilions and pink clover; along the path around the Pond were lilacs and morning glories, heather and Indian Paint Brushes- Lady Slippers grew in abundance; and in one special spot on the trail around this pond, grew wild roses. All summer long- these bushes were in full bloom. They smelled wonderful- the scent of wild flowers is always better than the cultured kind we buy from commercial sellers.

Today we found these same roses, in the same location, untouched by man. The roses are still out, even when it’s been so cool here lately. There were thousands of them- bushes- wild and tall and colorful. And they smelled the same as they did 30 yrs ago.

It seemed that no matter where one walked though, the Queen Ann’s Lace was over abundant. It was everywhere- along the road, the trail, in the yards, in the woods. Next to the birch trees with their white peeling bark. In the deep woods near moss covered rocks and boulders. Everyone told me that this Queen Ann lace was really just a weed. That is wasn’t a true flower. I never believed them. I loved the slight fragrance that emitted from the delicate white flowers that did look like lace.

We used to pick bunches of the Queen Ann and roses and give them to our mothers. Mixed in with whatever other flower we thought would look pretty at the time- sometimes those morning glories, others it might be dandilions. We would present them with much anticipation and pride. NO matter- our Mom’s always loved the thought and would place the bouquets into vases of water and place them on shiny wood tables near the front door. The flowers died eventually but not the smiles they brought to our Moms.

It was an interesting day- going back to this place. It’s not the first time I have been back- I have taken my daughters on walks around the Pond several times. This was the first time Kim and I went back. Our dogs came with us- Kim’s BIG DOG named Tank- who stands 4 1 1/2 feet tall and weighs over 120lbs. He loved the walk and went for a swim…Taz came along as well and got into the mud before the water. They chased snakes and frogs and stood in bewlidered shock looking at the salamanders.

I HATE flowers, but I had to pick a huge bunch of those roses and Queen Ann lace today- for memory sake. They sit in front of me here now, in an old stoneware crock. I plan to dry them and press them. It’s good to travel back in time now and again, live and in person, to see those places that helped make you who you are.