Tag Archives: Wild Child


My ass is getting dirty with the black soil I'm now seated on, and I don't care because I found the portal to the path that I discovered last night. I had to see if it would have the identical enchantment in the morning as it did when I danced under the moonbeams and became one with the evening shadows--

About 9:30AM, I set out and readily found the path – it's an old Amish buggy path, a series of shortcuts, so the Amish do not have to take the main roads all the time. The funny thing is that they seem to prefer the main roads, and the path is almost unused.

As I entered the path's first stretch, I was again struck by a sense of being totally alone. This was delicious, and my pace quickened with excitement, though my bones ached a bit from the night before –

Growing things look so different outside of the cement enclosures of human contrivance. Wild Queen-Anne's-Lace, Buttercups, Sumac, Daisies, & Thistles were in abundance. I'm sad to say that I can't classify a wide variety of beautiful ornaments – what a magnificent study I have ahead.

My aching joints loosened up, and my eyes began to focus on my surroundings
- And it wasn't, at first, quite as impressive as my first discovery last night, but maybe more so - just differently and uniquely: no stream we cross is ever the same the next time.

One similar thing, though, was my sense of being free and alone--
I tried to distinguish the things I had seen the night before and saw the wall of trees that had reminded me of an ancient castle in the moonlight. A path branched off and led into the trees and I decided to explore it.

As I entered the densely wooded area, I crossed a small ravine jumping across a few smooth stones that surfaced like turtle shells. I noticed that many of the trees were conjoined at their bases like Siamese twins - I tried to sit in the fork of two big trunks but my ass was a bit too big from sitting at a computer too long. 

Then I scouted and found that I was on the edge of a large cornfield, so, like one of the disciples of Jesus on the Sabbath day, I plucked an ear of corn for my breakfast. The sweetness of my stolen feast is hard to describe - it wasn't so much the taste but the action of a free person that gave it a heady flavor.

I remembered growing up on 8 acres of forested land, and when I would hike with my dad, we would always make a walking staff from fallen trees. So I found a nice big stick which I mean to keep as a souvenir - I want to shellac it and make it a token of the magic I feel in this forest.

Now, as I write this on my old palm keyboard, I am sitting on a black mud hill in the shade just off the side of the path - mosquitoes are eating me, but I don't care - a buggy passed by and didn't see me – I feel mischievous in my anonymity-- 
Hiding here awakens the old feeling of an untamed youth - basic humanity that I'm glad to experience again-

On the way back, I noticed litter on the side of the path – McDonald's wrappers and cups was being thrown out of the buggies. The garbage was a sign of intruders to me. So I will take a plastic bag and clean it up on one of my forays. 

Walking back was hot as the relentless sun beat on me, but, all of a sudden, I was met by a fluttering Monarch butterfly. It followed me for a while, and we greeted each other with the respect that royalty should be afforded. Three thistles are now hung on my bulletin board, and an ugly walking stick stands on the side of my door, calling me to new adventures. 

Leave a comment

Posted by on June 19, 2021 in Memoir, Poetry