All is Well

   How the Little Bayou House is situated, it is backed by a rather shabbily wooded area.  By shabbily, I am referring to the fact that the trees have been hurricane ravaged so much in the past years that there are mostly low-growing shrubs with very few tall "canopy" trees.  Probably on the whole of the back five acres, there may be a good fifty full sized trees.  The rest are thick bushes that only reach maybe twenty feet in height.  Through the midst of this, the tiny creek flows until it spills into the back part of the Bayou.  I leave the area wild and woolly simply to provide some shelter for the critters.  With everything around us sold and being developed, this is the only place where the critters can live free and happy.  I am good with it. There also is a lovely canebrake between the wooded area and the house.  This canebrake also provides shelter for critters.  You never know what you might find in there!

  With the woods and the canebrake being on the north side of the Little Bayou House, it is a welcome shelter for us, as well.  The dense growth of both shields us from the bitter north wind during winter.  It is there, that I can meander about without being chilled to the bone.  It is, also, there that I find my critter friends doing the same.  A good many will hunker down in the thickets to be protected from the icy winds.  

  It was on the hike this morning that I found the male Northern Cardinal in the canebrake.  His lovely wife was tucked in the midst of the brake but he was keeping watch from the edge.  Their soft chirps to each other called my attention to the male.  As I eased my way near the cane, the chirps took on a different tone as he told her to sit tight for possible danger approaches.  He never wavered from his post even though my path went directly below him.  Once he realized that I was not there to do harm, his chirps reverted back to the calming, soft whispers.  "It is all ok.  Stay put.  She will not hurt us.  All is well."  His ladylove stayed snug in her sheltered spot and he continued his watch just as I continued my way down the path. 

  I am glad the birds and other critters have a "safe place" from all of the craziness of this old world.  I am also glad that they realize I am a friend and not a predator.  The Little Bayou Kingdom is safe and sound.  All is well.

Critter Encounter

  Have you ever been out at the break of dawn and suddenly get that feeling that someone or something is watching you?  The hair starts to tingle on the back of your neck and you start peering into the shadows to see if something is lurking nearby.  It is a strange feeling.  Normally, it would not bother me much being way down here on the Bayou but, with the old dog ailing, we do not need a critter attack.  Coyotes and bobcats are roaming the hillside and if they ever deemed that we were too near, it would not be a pretty sight.  I am sure that, even though he is feeble, Mr. PJ would try to defend me and, in a sense, give his life for me.  He is just that good of a friend....canine or not.

  On this morning's hike, I suddenly stopped in my tracks.  The hair started standing on end and that gut started knotting.  Something, somewhere was keeping a steady eye on the old dog and me.  Mr. PJ did not get the feeling and kept his slow amble down the path.  Silently...slowly...I reached out and put my hand on his back.  He stopped immediately and stared at me.  This gave me the opportunity to scan the area.  Somewhere among the underbrush, a shadowy figure lurked. 

  It did not take long before I found our "menacing monster".  A raccoon was keeping a wary eye on this pair that was invading "his" territory.  I breathed a sigh of relief but kept my hand on Mr. PJ's back.  "Stay, boy, stay!"  I said in a hushed voice.  While I was somewhat more at ease with this being a coon, they can be vicious in their own right when cornered and this was one HUGE coon!  It was nigh on as big as the old dog. There was no need to push the critter into a fight mode.  

  We stood motionless for a bit as the coon stared at us.  Then, he silently turned and waddled down the path in the opposite direction.  Mr. PJ and I turned and retraced our steps.  Finding one critter was enough for this morning.  If Mr. PJ had been younger and stronger, we would have ventured further down toward the creek bed but not today...not today.

A Bargain Made

  All of my work cutting the new hiking trail seems to have been for naught.  Now that it is clear enough to walk, the bugs are too bad.  It seems that this is a fine year for ticks as once you enter the woods, you are invariably the host to a dozen or so.  With all of the diseases that those critters carry, hosting them for a short while can mean trouble.  Then, there are the deer flies!  Oh, my goodness!  Those things are down right vicious!  Stepping onto the path means that you are in their territory and they are hungry rascals.  A dozen or so will immediately attack!  It is not fun.  So...I have not been hiking. The path needs cutting again but I guess it will have to wait.

  Speaking of those deer flies, another critter friend is at least trying to help.  What Pop used to call a robber fly will attack the deer flies and, in a sense, protect me!  This critter is also called an assassin fly and for good reason.  The scary looking critter is just the thing we need around here as a security guard against the biting critters.  

  This morning while out turning on the sprinkler, a quick movement on the ground caught my eye.  Almost under my foot, a rather large nymph was trying to climb up a tomato stalk.  The sprinkler was knocking the poor critter back to the ground each time.  Not thinking of what might have been, I reached down to let the critter crawl onto my hand.  "There you go, Little One." I remarked as I held my up next to the hanging basket. The critter looked appreciative as it left my hand to climb onto the basket.  While I worked the gardens, the critter morphed. After a bit, I came back to find a robber fly in place of the nymph. "You are a beauty! Now since I was so kind to spare your life, you can return the favor by eating lots of deer flies!" I said. (Yes, I actually talked to this bug!)  

  If I never see this critter again, I can feel assured that it is keeping its end of the bargain.           


                                                                                                                             

Was That Even A Compliment???

  After painting the screen doors, it was time to crank up the old lawnmower and head to the woods.  I was becoming bored with the same old hiking paths so it was my intentions to start a new one.  The underbrush was thick and pushing that old mower through was one tough job but I was relentless!  I figured if I wanted a hiking path so I could get exercise, creating the path would give me just as good of a workout.  It did!  I gnawed through that underbrush like it was no one's business! I pushed.  I pulled.  I walked a good 20,000+ steps.  (Yes.  I did wear a step counter...20,704 steps today.)  Almost 4 hours later, I was purely exhausted!  I figured I had done enough for one day.  In fact, I was rather proud of the whole effort.  My new path was looking good and the walking meter said it was a little over 7 miles.  Oh, I am good!  Oh, I feel great (tired but great!).  Oh, I accomplished something!

  Just after returning the push mower to its designated "parking" spot, Son stopped working on house repairs long enough to share a glass of water with me.  "You know, Mom.  You are not doing half bad for a woman your age." he deadpanned.  Ok.  I took that as a compliment...for a short moment.  Then, it hit me.  "For a woman your age"....was that an underhanded punch to the gut??  Am I THAT old that I have reached "woman of your age" status?    Hmmm.  I think he meant it as a compliment...right?  Ok, so I admit it.  I am old but did he have to remind me?  

  Aside from the conversation that left me perplexed, I still felt good about my work.  The new path is coming along nicely.  It will require a good bit more work with the mower and then a saw and snips will come into play.  There are a lot of low limbs that need to be cleared to make the path safe.  Hopefully, this old lady can keep the current burst of energy going for a bit longer.

The Path Will Have To Wait..

  Even though my daily hikes have been severely curtailed due to the old dog's health, the path still calls.  He just does not have the stamina to walk much further than what is necessary each day.  Rather than cause him anxiety by leaving him behind, I am merely foregoing any extended absences.  The lack of hiking and long stressful nights of assisting him are taking their toll on me, however.   My appetite has not waned only the exercise!  That said, I figure it is time to find a new way to concentrate on my health!  So I am searching.

  I will say that I sorely miss the interesting sights, sounds and smells of the woods, creek bed and Bayou.  This morning while the old dog, Mr. PJ, did his morning business, I sneaked a peek at my one of my favorite spots along the path.  Down behind the greenhouse, the path winds around the palmettos, through the wild persimmon trees and under the large live oak trees.  The sight, although beautiful with the spring foliage, left me wistful.  Oh, how I longed to meander down that path to see how things have changed over the past few months.  I yearned to peek into the birds' nests, drop to my knees to examine the wildflowers and breathe the aroma of the blooming sweetspire.

  Just as I was tempted to venture forth, a gentle nudge brought me to my senses.  Looking down, I stared right into the doleful eyes of my sweet buddy.  Not today, adventure!  Duty calls.  Today, this sweet fellow needs me and I will be by his side.  Good ol' Mr. PJ.  

Moss-covered Memories

  On the north side of the Little Bayou House, there is a trail that leads into the woods.  It meanders under the magnolia trees, between huge clumps of palmettos and down the hill to the chinkapin (chinquapin) trees. Once you make the final turn back toward the house, you happen upon a rather interesting sight.  Beneath the briers, you can find the most lovely, moss-covered log that you ever want to see!  The thing is a good fifteen feet long and has most of the bark missing.  All that is left is the heart of the tree and mounds of rotted wood.  What once was a majestic pine tree now is a delightfully interesting moss bed.

  No matter how often I hike this path, the log is always a stopping point.  It fascinates me.  I admit that this fascination comes from as far back as my childhood.  It was then that I was taught to see things a bit differently than most folks.  A moss-covered log is not some discard of nature but is a habitat for a multitude of new species of flora and fauna.  It is not some ugly trash in the forest but is a thing of natural beauty.  

  As a child, the discovery of such a log would have thrown me into a fantasy land of make believe. Hours upon hours would have been spent clearing the brambles from the area.  My small hands would have been scratched by the briers, arms bitten by ants and mosquitoes and I would have been dirty beyond belief but...my log would have become a play area,  More oft than not, my folks could find me in the edge of the woods playing in my own little world.
  
  This afternoon as Mark and I walked the back path, that log took me way back to those happy times.  I mentioned to Mark that I wanted to clear the pathways again and maybe cut the brambles away from the old log.  I am not sure he understood what was going through my head but he simply nodded in agreement and let me wallow in the possibilities of a new happy place.

Hiking Forgotten Paths

  Sometimes, my hikes with the old dog get to be a bit repetitive since he is not able to do a lot of strenuous climbing over downed logs or worming his way through underbrush.  I have to stick to the clear trails which makes for seeing the same things over and over again.  However since he is feeling poorly from the bronchitis, I left him inside today.  Son and I headed out to the back woods to get firewood.  I have not been on this part of the property in months so it was an adventure...almost.  There were so many new things to see!

  One of the things that impressed me was the variety of turkey tail mushrooms that were on most of the felled trees.  The colors were so varied!  One log had a cluster of the mushrooms that scaled the cut end of the log.  It was actually beautiful!  I was hesitant to let Son cut the fallen trees merely because it would mean a loss of habitat for these mushrooms.  I had to do some heavy weighing here...warmth. mushrooms...warmth, mushrooms.  Warmth won so he cut and I hauled.

  Being able to expand my hiking trail was like finding a long lost friend.  Although, I recall every step of the path from previous hikes, the area was filled with new and exciting things.  The change of seasons does remarkable things to woods.  Being away for just a few months, made the changes jump out at me.  I was like a kid in a candy shop!  It was all I could do to stop exploring and start hauling firewood.  Hopefully, I can slip out again tomorrow and explore a bit more before the bad weather sets in on the weekend.

 

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.  

Mossy Paths and the Wiggletail Search

  I try not to complain because I like rain.  I really do.  I like the way the earth smells fresh and clean after a thunderstorm.  I like the thunder, the lightning and winds.  Stormy weather stirs me to the bone but occasionally, one has to say "Enough is enough!"  Our persimmon seed weather forecasting predicted a wetter than usual winter and, so far, the seeds have been correct.  We have had so much rain that things are getting a tad soggy about the Bayou.  Living high on a hillside, rain waters do not present a flooding problem but due to the constant moisture (from rains and pea-soup thick fog), nothing is drying.  If this keeps up, we will all have to be extra diligent in emptying any standing water.  Mosquito larvae will have a happy time but, I guarantee, the rest of us will not.  With the warmer weather, this thought occurred to me, today.  I need to start checking flower pots and birdbaths for those little wiggletails!

    Wiggletails!  Now, there is a fine name for you.  Wiggletails are what we grew up calling mosquito larvae.  The tiny wiggly things that can be found in any bucket of water seemingly moments after a rainstorm!  It never ceases to amaze me just how quickly mosquito eggs hatch into those weird looking larvae that so violently kick about in standing water.  Let any wee puddle sit more than a day and suddenly it was filled with the larvae.  The tiny, almost worm-looking larvae move about the water with a tail-jerking action..hence the name wiggletails.  Pop told us to make sure we emptied any buckets so the wiggletails did not "hatch" into mosquitoes.   The name stuck as did the idea behind the emptying.

  But the rains have not only supplied us with potential mosquito nurseries, it also has made trekking about the hillside a tad treacherous.  The board paths have become covered with molds and mosses that are as slippery as a greased pig.  Several times in the past few weeks, I have come close to sliding down the hillside on my rump!  The board paths are to be avoided until drier weather!  I can remember my grandmother going out with a bucket of bleach water and a scrub brush to swab down her front steps.  At the time, I thought that she did not like the way the molds and mosses made her steps green.  (Personally, I thought it was a lovely shade of green and was almost perturbed to see her scraping away at the moss!)  Now, I think she probably had a great idea.  Still, being the lackadaisical person I am, I shall wait until the weather dries and the mold and moss disappears on its own.  In the meantime, I shall take a different path and hunt for wiggletails.

Dead Fish Falling From the Sky

  Sometimes it pays to keep a watchful eye on your surroundings.  Other than the obvious threat of stepping on a cottonmouth while traipsing about the marsh, I usually feel relatively safe here on the Bayou.  With it being wintertime, even the threat of a snake is nil.  I do, however, worry about the old dog, Mr. PJ.  He is not accustomed to the hazards that come with living "in the wild".  So...I keep a watchful eye out for his safety.  He is great as protection...when he is aware of his surroundings but with age, his senses have dulled a bit and he often overlooks things.  Just today, that became apparent.

  I have always trained the dogs to do their "business" way down near the marsh on the east side of the property.  Here, there are two possible trails and the dogs have always preferred the lower one.  This way, I do not have to worry about a misstep into "their" territory.  My moccasins stay clean!  I usually just tell the dogs to "go down the hill" and do not have to lead them.  This has always worked in the past as it frees me from having to have a leash for the dogs and, also, gives the dogs a bit of "privacy" for their daily business trips.  Periodically, I do a check on the lower path just to make sure no potential hazards have popped up....or in today's case....plopped down.  

  I meandered down the lower path only with intentions of photographing a baby raccoon that was feeding on the mudflats. The little rascal scampered as soon as I neared the site so I decided to do my "path check", instead.  It is a good thing that I did.  That little raccoon could have inadvertently saved Mr. PJ, the dog, a good bit of pain.  The remains of a large catfish were sitting with the spine poking straight up.  Had the dog blindly been running down the path, he could have possibly stepped right on that spine.  There is nothing worse than getting one of those barbed fins stuck in your flesh and this one was a good four inches long.  That poor dog would have had an immediate emergency trip to the vet!  Obviously, an osprey had caught the catfish and carried it to the top of the tall pine along the edge of the path.  Here, the bird feasted but then dropped the hard head with fin intact.  The head fell with the dorsal fin sticking up like an arrow.  That fin and the pectoral fins are the ones that will do damage if they puncture flesh.  

  While it was about as nasty as things can get, I gingerly picked up the fish head by the dorsal fin and tossed it far out into the marsh.  There, Mr. PJ will never step on it.  Sometime during the night, I am positive that an otter or raccoon will make short work of the osprey's leftovers.  What bothers me most is that if the osprey has chosen this spot as its main roost, there will be more fish remains plopping down on that lower path.  This means that I will have to do daily checks instead of weekly or Mr. PJ may just have to choose to use the upper path as his bathroom.  We shall see.

The Long Path

  Low tide on the Bayou is such an interesting time.  Things that are normally hidden beneath the murky waters become exposed.  So many things float in on the tide then become stuck in the mud or marsh. Sometimes, these things are a nuisance.  Irresponsible boaters toss garbage in the waters and invariably that trash winds up at my pier.  I often ponder how those same folks would feel if I threw my garbage in their front yard.  Something to think about, now isn't it.  But not all things brought in sight are ugly!  An old algae covered log can be intriguing while shells can be down right beautiful.  

  This afternoon, the tide was far out from the shoreline.  While the usual driftwood and clam shells could be seen, several "paths" are what caught my eye.  Resembling the otter slides but only tiny, these paths were made by snails.  Olive Nerites were making their way from the waterless shore to the waves lapping on the soft mud. Each snail left a smooth trail as they slowly trekked toward the water.  Each long path (well, at least long for a tiny snail) was about a half inch wide and maybe ten feet in length.  

  I watched one snail for quite a while.  The poor little guy only moved about six inches in that time.  It occurred to me that by the time the snail reached the water's edge, the tide would be shifting.  The rising tide would make his hard work a moot point.  Just about the time he made it safely to the water, the incoming tide would put the snail right back where he started.  A least, he made the effort to better his situation.   Sometimes, it seems to be best to sit back and wait when things seem out of whack but that is not always the case.  I guess I figure that it never hurts to try to improve things when you can.  You will never know what you can do unless you try!

Magical, Mystical Glade

  Way down behind the canebrake where the hillside slopes down to the back of the Bayou, there is a spot that never seems to fail in enchanting me.  Whether it be during the dim hours at dawn or the sun dappled time just before dusk, there is something almost magical about the spot.  Or, maybe it is just my imagination.  Could be but I still find the place fascinating.  It is here that you can hear the towhees rustling in the palmettos and the squirrels scolding you from the tall oaks.  From the midst of the canebrake, a rain crow (or yellow billed cuckoo) coos softly and the scritch, scritch, scritch of a pine warbler's sharp toes can be heard as the bird searches the pine bark for bugs.  There is a soft breeze blowing from the north and with it a scent of sweetspire wafts through the air.  The place is perfection making it easy to become lost in the wonderment.

  Son and I pushed our lawnmowers for nigh on four hours today as we trimmed up the place a bit.  Tomorrow will be much the same.  Four more hours and the mowing should be complete.  After cutting, I eased my way back down to the "secret" spot and sat on an old log enjoying the solitude. Sometimes, refreshment can come from no more than just listening, smelling and watching what is around you.  After a good day's work, it is satisfying to be able to communicate with Mother Nature.  I so appreciate the beauty around me. This magical, mystical glade is one of the spots where I can find serenity from the hubbub of the world.

Finding Fall!

  I fully enjoy looking at photographs of the lovely colors of fall.  I admire the bright colors of the leaves, frost covering hayfields and even the dried grasses.  I do enjoy the photographs.  That is about the only way I can view these things.  (Frost makes an appearance in winter but not fall.)  Here it is a rare occurrence to find bright red, orange and yellow leaves.  Popcorn trees or maples try their best and the Black Gums do occasionally pop a few red leaves just for show but most trees never even attempt the feat.  We have to be satisfied with whatever few colors we get.

  Today, however, I found fall!  While most folks are well on their way to winter, I found the Deep South's version of fall leaves.  I took Ms. Ez and her hurt foot out for a leisurely stroll about the hillside.  The old dog is getting stiff from being lazy so I figured a walk would do her good.  We wandered down along the marsh edge and then to the wild persimmon tree.  I ALWAYS have to meander past this tree!  As I grabbed a dozen or so of the little orange blobs, a bit of yellow caught my eye!  FALL LEAVES!  Yep, the young persimmon saplings that I have been saving, presented me with a lovely show!  Sure, it is only yellow but at least they are pretty! From where I stood, the six or seven young trees were framed by two oak trees.  The path to the trees looked so inviting that Ms. Ez and I immediately decided to change course and head that way.  What a peaceful little nook this was!  These particular trees, although only about a hundred feet from the house, were completely blocked from view.  I would have never seen them had it not been for my hankering for the tasty persimmons.

  According to the weather reports, we are going to jump right into winter here in a few weeks.  The Bayou is to be on the tail end of a cold front that is going to sweep down from our neighbors to the north.  I will be spending the rest of this week and the first part of next preparing the garden and greenhouse for the cold snap.  A stockpile of firewood is ready with more on the way.  It should be interesting to have cooler nights this early in the year.  Ponder..ponder...could those persimmon seeds be right?  Are their weather predictions holding true for a cold, wet (aka snowy) winter?  Regardless, I did get a sighting of fall thanks to the persimmon trees!

 

Parental Guidance is a Good Thing!

The hillside that overlooks the Bayou is my stomping ground.  It is here that I take my daily hikes and it is here where I take numerous photographs.  The marsh and woods are filled with flora and fauna that never cease to intrigue me.  It would seem that after a while, I would grow tired of climbing around in the brambles or sludging through the marshes but that thought has never entered my mind.  There is always something new and exciting just around the next corner or under the next log.  Michael and I hiked a bit the other day looking for driftwood to use in a few creative projects.  While we were out and about, we came across evidence of some intruders.  It seems that one portion of the neighboring vacant twenty acres has become a dumping ground for litterers.  Trash was piled high in some areas and in others, there was evidence that some "unsavory" actions were taking place.  This bothers me a good bit as it means that I will have to be a bit more careful on my treks.  I used to have to only worry about the coyotes or wild hogs.  Now I might come face to face with another type predator.  Michael informed his old mom that she is not to go traipsing about without him.  How is that for "parental guidance"!  I never thought the tables would be turned to where my kids are curtailing my activities!  I am supposing with the discovery of the trespassers and their illegal activities, I will have to stay on our property or take along my bodyguard aka son.  The nefarious activities will be reported and hopefully something will be done to make my backyard a bit safer.

In the meantime, I will have to be satisfied with shorter hikes.  On one route that I take through the back creek, I pass through an area that is filled with sassafras and bay trees.  Both of these make me smile as I know that I can harvest a number of the leaves each year.  While exploring, I found the neatest little pathway that was lit with sunlight filtering through the leaves.  This sort of gave the natural path a bit of a surreal appearance.  It was almost magical!  I almost had the feeling that some sort of mystical beings might pop out of the bushes to greet me! Sad to say, no faeries, gnomes, elves or sprites made their presence known.  I had to be satisfied with the company of a lone male cardinal.  I was good with that.  He was most lovely!

Hopefully, the intruders will be banished from the area and my hikes can continue uninterrupted.  Otherwise, Michael will be tagging along as his mom clambers through the woods in search of those ever elusive magical creatures..or at least another cardinal!

The Forgotten Path

Sometimes things are pushed to the back of our minds and there they linger just out of reach of our present thoughts. We know they are there somewhere but it seems that try as we might, the recollection is futile. This begins to be more prevalent as we age..only sort of in reverse. Memories from years ago seem to be far more vivid than where we laid our glasses or car keys just moments before. I read where to improve the memory, we should try to petition new thoughts and ideas into our daily lives. Hmm. That is provocative..new thoughts to revive the old memories? Or could it be the other way around?? Old memories to create new thoughts?? Anyway, today as I was out enjoying the Fall-like weather, I wandered over to what used to be my aunt and uncle's home-site. I love this place. I spent much of my childhood here playing with my cousin. I suppose you could say we were much closer than just cousins, I saw her as my best friend (and still feel just as close even though we are miles apart). As I walked, I came across the place where the driveway led to the house..it was so different ..so overgrown. This forgotten path lured me further..I knew there was nothing at the end but still I could not turn away. Each step I took invoked memories..each memory nurtured anticipation. This went on until I could see beauty in everything. There was a certain beauty about the unkempt surroundings that was almost ethereal. The setting sun cast shadows but also caused the brambles and weeds to glow as if in a spotlight. It was almost mesmerizing the way the sunlight changed the appearance of even the most mundane of things. The giant of the old oak tree loomed overhead while the goldenrod gleamed like torches. The birds chattered announcing my being there to all within earshot but they seemed equally at ease with my presence. The rabbits and squirrels accepted my intrusion with just a mere glance. There was an amazing peace among all beings. With memories of the place flowing freely in my head, I wandered aimlessly about..not wanting to leave. I had become so enthralled with the tranquility of the place that time passed way to quickly. The sun had almost slipped behind the trees before I turned to retreat down the forgotten path. It was dark by the time I reached home but it was as if a light had been turned on deep inside me. Happy memories danced through my mind.. memories of old times that were long forgotten. Memories that are now burned into the mind and are sparking new thoughts and ideas. Ideas of things to come..of memories to be made..all because of this forgotten path. Or could it truly be labeled "Memory Lane"???