Magic Woods

When I was younger, I spent a lot of time in Kilgore at my grandparents' house. What I most liked to do was traipse through the woods looking for unicorns. I'd say I spent from 6-years old to 10-years old looking for unicorns in those woods. There was a clearing where the sun shone down through the trees in streams of light and the pine needles gave way to funny green plants that grew just tall enough to hide you if you laid down flat. I waited in that clearing for what seemed like years. My unicorn never came, and eventually I grew up and stopped playing in the woods.

This Thanksgiving, we went to my parents' house. They live next door to my grandmother, so they have the same woods as a back yard. The weather was so beautiful Thursday and we hardly saw the kids because they spent all day outside (thank goodness my city boys are getting a little country influence). I took my camera outside with me to capture them being kids and I was rewarded with magic.

When I first walked into the trees, the smell transported me back in time. Pine needles and decaying leaves and earth under my feet felt like a crunchy cloud. I used to make forts out of branches and pile up this material for a bed. I had to stop and close my eyes and breath in as deeply as I could. Crickets were chirruping and the wind blew through the leaves. I heard the kids laughing and running through underbrush. They were swinging from trees that I swung from. They were challenging one another to jump over the wide part of the creek. They found sticks to use as swords and battled creatures I couldn't see. I played these games. My mom and my uncles grew up in those woods playing the same games.

Woods that transport you. Woods that hold the promise of adventure. Woods that sing. Woods that smell like a memory.

Magic woods.

Alas, my time was cut short by my younger children needing me inside and so I was carried back to reality with camera in hand. I took the pictures I wanted and began walking up to the house.

The three oldest cousins came galloping into the yard from the trees. Each of them riding their own unicorn. They'd found them in the woods. Pearce explained to me that I couldn't see the unicorns because a special creature hadn't spit in my eyes (he's reading the Spiderwick Chronicles). What he didn't know was this - I could so clearly see the unicorns. And they were beautiful.