Dusty Corners Of My Brain

  Every now and again as I am meandering about the place, a sight, sound or smell will jog a memory that has been long hidden in some dusty corner of my brain.  The memory is covered in cobwebs and all but unrecognizable but it IS there.  Sometimes, the memory is not clear and I struggle to bring it to light so I can wallow in the bliss that comes with recollections of the past.  Perhaps this split second memory is nothing more than a brain trick but it often comes with a bit of yearning of something that is there...yet is not. The feeling is hard to explain but with it comes an overwhelming desire to search...for the unknown.

  Yesterday morning as I was walking the old dog, one of those brain blips wormed its way into being.  The sun was just peaking over the pines on the opposite side of the Bayou and sent beams shooting through the oddest places.  This cast some unsettling shadows about the place but also created points of curiosity.  From the garden gate, there appeared to be almost a darkened tunnel to a brilliant point of light.  I had that nagging urge to follow that light even though it merely led to another part of the yard.  

  That "dark tunnel" sent the wheels of my mind turning and churning.  Somewhere, somehow, some time, I had been in just such a tunnel with the light at the end.  Where?  How?  When?  I have no clue  but the sight left a yearning for something from my past.   I really must dust the corners of my brain and pull down the cobwebs so I can see a bit clearer when it come to these things.  

The Bog Calls to Us

  It was a good day.  Any day outside seems to suit me fine but today was special.  Darling Daughter and I spent the day traipsing about a creek and wooded area.  Down behind their property is a low area that is almost magical.  The trees block out the sky leave you feeling completely secluded from the world.  Once you head down under this canopy, things change.  It is the perfect place to escape reality for a little while.  As she and I slipped quietly down the embankment to where the creek was still overflowing from the recent rains, we both felt a peace around us.  We looked at each other and had the same thought of deja vu.  It was as if we belonged spiritually among the mosses, ferns and critters that inhabit the bog.  Something felt as if it was drawing us deeper and deeper into the depths of the fen.  

  While we were marveling over the intense feeling of belonging, we began discovering life that most overlook.  Our vision adjusted from the bright sunlight of the open field to the dim lit understory of the creek. The mystical, magical place began to open up to us.  We were enthralled.

  Mosses, fungi, lichens, ferns...all could be found among the fallen logs and crawfish mounds. Some, we recognized.  Others were unknown to us.  All were fascinating.  We pushed deeper into the swamp.  The further we went, the more entranced we became.  Then, an idea! Wouldn't it be wonderful to build a tiny house way back in the bog that was only accessible by means of a footpath and a swinging bridge? Just a tiny hut of a place to commune with nature and sort of "nest" while escaping the "real" world.   A place where we could feel at peace.  The bog calls us.  We shall return.