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After The Rain

I took this picture in my parent’s garden in Eastern Canada following a gentle rain.  When I was young and lived here, I could exit our back door and walk directly into a great forest of conifers and deciduous trees.  My friend and I waged many battles in that forest against all manner of evil; we fought the Nazis, criminals, aliens and, when we were a little older, strange bands of scantily clad Amazonian women. Hey, don’t judge me!  In winter, a winding path through the forest became our own personal bobsled run.  The path twisted through the trees and we’d scream down it at mach three with our hair on fire.

It’s a different time now.  Kids have to be watched more carefully.  People drive their cars more quickly down neighborhood streets.  Outdoor time is shorter and often confined to walled back yards.  I’m glad I grew up in a time when parents didn’t have to stress so much about their kid’s every move.  My friend and I lived outdoors and rarely made our way home during the day.  As the air cooled and the sun started to set each night we’d begin to keep our ears open for our signal to return home.  Almost every evening you could hear from our respective front porches the nearly simultaneous call of the town criers, “Chris, Scott, Stephanie, Jamie, Pauly, Susie! TIME FOR SUPPER!!!”

It was a good time and a good place to be a kid.

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