My Special Place

The invigorating chill of autumn greets me as I walk into my spacious backyard. It is such a calm peaceful day. No bugs are buzzing around my head looking for a free meal. They have hibernated or gone wherever it is that bugs go when the cool days begin. The intoxicating orange, yellow and brown mix of colors makes me dizzy as I gaze into the forest-like splendor of my special place. As I walk towards the hills I can hear the crisp crunch of the leaves beneath my feet being ground into the rich, black soil. Overhead fly the flocks of southern-bound birds beginning their yearly flight. All about me is the sound of scurrying, food-gathering rabbits and squirrels as they prepare for the long, icy winter. Up into the hills I trod, panting as the chill wind takes my breath along with it to sway the giant trees. Finally I reach the top and behold the awesome sight of fall gathering the city in its colorful presence. As evening approaches and the sky turns a golden sundown hue off towards the west, I head back down to my kitchen with the fresh baked bread aroma of dinner. My mouth waters as I spread the rich, creamy butter on a thick slice of herb bread. It tastes so good that I have to have another. As I finish rinsing the remnants of a delicious dinner from the dishes, out the window fall the first dancing, prancing, white flakes of winter.

After a restful dreamless sleep I look out onto a dazzling wonderland of sparkling trees as the sun makes its exploding appearance in the eastern sky. I pull on my old floppy overshoes and plod through the fresh morning snow. My dog, Buddy, runs in ever-widening circles sniffing for some small animal he can chase through the glistening snow and possibly, (though he never has) catch a critter to play with. What was only a few minutes ago an untouched wonderland is now spotted here and there with doggy tracks. It takes very little time for my cheeks to become tingly and numb from the brisk cold. A cardinal flies singing through the trees looking for a small crumb of food that hasn’t been covered in the frozen powder. I will have to get the bird feeder out when I return to the house. It seems as if it is taking forever to climb to the top of my hill today but as I arrive, I realize that the trip was worth the climb. The city is engulfed in diamond-like sparkles as the sun shines on the virgin snow, clinging to the trees and housetops. As soon as the day warms, this sight will disappear, not to be seen until the next storm arrives. It is time to head for the warmth of home. As I get closer to the house I see my grandchildren coming from the backdoor. They are all dressed in Eskimo-like layers of clothing. Laughing and yelling, they run and jump in a diving board manner into the cushiony, soft snow. It appears to be snow man building day. I watch from a distance as they each take a handful of snow and pack it into hard, icy balls. The youngest seems to be having trouble keeping the snow in ball form. The two oldest have already started to roll their snow balls through the snow, joyously watching them grow ever larger. Michael still can’t seem to get going with his. I yell; “Come on Buddy; let’s go help build a snow man.” With two rocks for eyes, sticks for nose, mouth and arms, the snow man is complete. It is time to go back in the house and have some hot chocolate.

After a long, cold winter, finally the signs of an approaching life-giving spring come to my special place. I have no need of a warm, bulky coat today. A thin jacket will do just fine. When I step out the back door, the first thing to enter my vision is the welcome tiny, green buds on the lilac bush and the little shoots of the tulips as they push the soil out of the way to make their climb into the warm sun light. Overhead a flock of blackbirds are returning to the trees of my special place. They are chirping loudly, arguing about who gets to claim which tree this year. As I walk along I can see the small areas of green trying to retake the land from the death of winter. This is such a fun time of year. Every day a new surprise awaits me as my gardens begin to populate with the perennials that survive the long winter. My roses all have little red shoots that seem to be growing out of dead sticks. I will have to get out here tomorrow and clean all of the old mulch, which has been a blanket to keep them warm, from around them. For now though, it is time to return to the house and see if the rest of the family has awakened.

It is as if it has gone right from winter to summer this year; the spring was so short. It is time to fill the swimming pool so we can all cool off after the long, hot days. I will have to drag the hose up from the basement first. There isn’t too much work to filling the pool. The work begins after it is full. While the pool is filling I am going to check my gardens. I can see the lilacs in all of the colors of purple covering the bush. The roses have filled out with leaves and the first flowers have appeared. The smell of the roses permeates the air all around the garden. The tulips have all bloomed and are starting to droop from the hot sun beating down on them. The bees are swarming around the garden flowers, gathering the nectar that they will turn into honey. Butterflies are flying around the butterfly bushes getting their fill. I don’t even try to walk up the hill today; it is just too hot. The black birds are singing a song of summer from the tree tops, Sparrows are all gathered around the bird feeder, throwing the seeds down for their offspring who are waiting on the ground with their mouths wide open hoping that their parents will feed them as they used to do. The pool is now full so it is time to put away the hose. The children will be out as soon as they put on their swimming suits. The water is way too cold for this old lady right now. I will wait until the sun has a chance to bring it warmth. In the mean time I will go in the house and make sure the air conditioners are all working. I think we are going to need them very soon. I really hate to leave my special place but I know it will still be here when I come out tomorrow.

Story © by Marcia Hitchens