Nostalgia Strikes Again!

Secrets. Everyone wants them. Not the nasty, gossipy kind, but the deliciously thrilling kind. Secret thoughts, secret places - things shared only with the trees and the wind. I am feeling a bit nostalgic tonight, so pardon me as I take a look back at some of my secret places.

I had many secret places as a child. I delighted in the thought that I, and only I, knew where to find them. Of course, looking back, I am sure that others had found them before me. There are not many places on a 30+ acre farm that go unexplored by a family of adventurous children. But, at the time, they were my secrets, and I guarded them zealously.

A lot of our land is covered in a bewildering growth of cedar trees. One day, as I was crouching, ducking, and dodging through the dense, low-growing cedar branches, I came upon a lovely little clearing. It was carpeted in brilliant green moss, and if I stood in the very center and looked up, I could see a patch of clear sky. It became my secret place. I did not go there often, but the thought of it always lingered contentedly in the back of my mind. I haven't been back to that spot in years. I suppose I'm afraid that some of the magic will have faded, and that the beautiful secret of my memories will be nothing more than a prosaic hole in the woods.

Pine trees are secret-tellers. Just listen to them, and you will half-hear the secrets of all the things they've seen in their long vigil. There is a path cut through some of our pine woods, and though others use it, I consider it one of my secret places. The needle-carpeted ground hushes every sound except for the whispering of the pines and perhaps the occasional drumming of a woodpecker. It is one of those places where I always feel alone, even when I'm with others. The pines are whispering to only me, while the rest of the world strains to listen in.

Of course, some secrets are meant to be shared. I have always been mildly obsessed with codes and detectives, so one time Natasha and I set up a secret mailbox. We hid a film canister in a hollow log, and left each other notes in code. We had an amazing time...until my little brother spied on us and found our mailbox. After that, we tried (unsuccessfully) to re-locate and conceal it, but eventually gave up. We were probably getting a little 'old' for that sort of thing, anyway.

I could go on to talk of more secret places I had, but the hour waxes late, and I should probably betake me to my slumbers. I've got most of the nostalgia out of my system now, so I should be able to sleep peacefully.

Boa noite!