A Youth Made of Burrs and Dirt

When I was young wild horses couldn’t drag me out of the woods. My dog and I would go in the hills with only the sun to tell us what time it was. We would run to the sound of leaves and twigs crunching under our feet, climb up cave walls, and nap in the shade provided ever so lovingly by the trees– To us thick moss and pine needles were more welcoming than a king size bed.

During Spring we would sit under the Dogwood trees and watch the tadpoles swim, by Summer we were swimming ourselves, come Winter we would climb as high as we could and sled down, when the Fall rolled in we would snack on pawpaws and watch the leaves change. And that was my youth.

The sun would set, the moon would illuminate the crisp country sky, and we would emerge from the woods victorious; and you could bet the farm that we would be covered in burrs and dirt.

As I’ve grown older I’ve lost touch with nature. But over the past few days I’ve spent some time in the hills, reconnecting. It’s nice to be back, and just in time for Earth Day.

There is something about walking up a Kentucky hillside that just makes sense.