Woods and countryside

When I was a child growing up in New Orleans, we did our best to turn our backyard into the closest thing we could imagine the great outdoors to be. It would have been a very confining space except for the fact that none of the neighbors’ yards were fenced so we could roam freely. In back of our yard were a cluster of that very New Orleans tree, the hackberry, and it was these trees that we used for climbing and building structures at the base of — huts, storefronts and the like for our Old West town. The hackberry is just about as undistinguished a tree as its name, but it has a special place in my memory for its constituting the only semblance of woods we had in our neighborhood. Its leaves are small and serrated like an elm’s, but its bark is truly distinct. It has rough little round and oblong protuberances covering the surface of the tree, and I often liked to pull them off. So it was a kind of grizzled and rough tree, but I thought it was a grand specimen because I didn’t know about the noble oaks, sycamores, elms, and tulip trees that existed elsewhere in our environs.

When we moved to the true suburbs on the West Bank of New Orleans from our modest neighborhood in Jefferson Parish (near the waterworks, for those who might know landmarks for orientation), I was transported to my vision of wilderness — dark, green, humid, flat, semi-tropical woodlands which seemed to cover acres. Before the trees were cleared for several more streets in back of us, we had our run of these woods. They were filled with birdsong. They were dense, but light filtered down to the understory. We cut saplings with our knives to use as spears as we made our way in and around vines and deeper into our imagined wilderness. We were explorers and adventurers. We might as well have been in the rain forests of Brazil.

It didn’t last long, for only a year or so later our woods were gone and the new streets and houses were sprouting with dismaying speed.. How depressing it was to lose this small slice of forest. We had nice live oaks all down our street and there were a lot of trees left in the subdivision, thankfully, so it was still quite a green area.

But I wasn’t able to know and enjoy woods again until years later when I moved to South Carolina and was free to explore the backroads around Columbia as often as I wanted. The big city of New Orleans was claustrophobic to me because it was so endless and flat and seemingly the same. So I had to dream of the country and trees, streams and ponds, and farms that I glimpsed on our drives to and from South Carolina on vacation. I always tried to imagine what it would have been like to grow up on the country, and since I wished I could have done so, I idealized and romanticized rural places. This fantasy place in the country was where I could escape the headache-inducing traffic of the city and the endless grids of streets and houses.

When, in the early 70s, I had a chance to visit, along with other friends, a farm out in the country not far from Columbia in the community of Blythewood, I was ecstatic. I walked down to the creek at the back of the property, and watched the flowing stream. I wandered around what seemed like every square inch of the property, just savoring the romoteness of it, the stillness that lay over the land, and the freshness in the air. This was my dream of what the country was like, and I remember walking back to the main house in a kind of happy daze, wanting to stay there and not leave. I still remember the experience vividly all these years later.

(Written July 28, 1998)

I can remember one of the trees in our backyard from when I was a kid. It was enourmous and had such rough, crevassed trunck and branches that I would get scraped just brushing up against it.

Yes, Oswego, the city does not do much to give one a woodsy feel, does it? Thankfully for me, I spent my teenage years living in a very wooded area with the marsh as our back yard in Slidell. Your hackberry tree reminds me of a rather scrawny pear tree that sat the edge of our back yard when I was child and lived in Chattanooga. Scrawny or not, it was great for climbing and gave sweet pears. [Free

I do hope, my friend, when the day comes and you choose to retire that you will buy yourself a small cottage in the country, filled with all the beauty, greenery and space your gentle soul longs for. You so well deserve your own small slice of “Heaven”!

Hackberry tree? Hm, not in my wordbook. I love trees. They are so interesting. the color, the shape of the leaves, the smell etc. In my country there are lots of wilderness and forests… even in our capital there is only some minutes out to the nature. I love nature. I think if mankind looses contact with the nature, we are in really trouble

There were four huge hackberry trees on my back property line the city had to take down to put in a new storm sewer. I was sad to see them go, but I had one huge branch go through my garage. That is a whole ‘nother story! As kids we had wooded hills to hike through on the boundry of the city park. Back then it was so safe. I can imagine parents doing that today!

Oh my friend, you are a misplaced country boy at heart aren’t you? Thanks for your note. I don’t know that knowing me better is such a good thing though 🙂

Our backyard was a bit of a jungle gym following Hugo, and for the remainder of my formative years, I would go out exploring in the woods between the houses. Now, a lot of my most favorite patches of woods and trail are gone, because of development and such.

just emailed you regarding a school project and realized i signed my real name…it was from me….LuAnn/Valre/ladyofshalott 🙂

Shall I do for the country what I did for small towns? Tell about the ticks, the skunks, the snakes, the distance one must travel for amusements? LOL Nah, I won’t do that; rather, I know all too well that I can never be a city girl. I have to see the trees, the whole of the sky, feel the wind; I have to stand in the yard knowing I can do so in peace and privacy. I can’t breathe elsewhere. [Er

It’s interesting how we get drawn to certain places, certain environments starting at a young age…Your special Places give you such serenity and appreciation, I think.

Have you ever noticed how many shades of green there are? Traveling these hills one can see various nuances of the color. When I first noticed I was held in awe. I took a picture out the side window while driving once. All the shades of green running into the next – a strange photo one must know what it is to appreciate it, I think. A small plane ride – the entire world looked green. [Zhnee]A

You have inspired me to write about the backyard I grew up in. Thank you.

I am a fan of Maya Angelou.She says of you: I believe there is a country soul and a city soul. The city soul could be born on top of the great Smokies or on the Appalachian Trail, but when she sees the city, she says,”This is where I’m supposed to be.” Then there’s the country soul who could be born on Times Square,but when he sees the country,he says,”This is where I’m supposed to be.”M.Angel

Only a country soul can touch the great outdoors as you describe and be full and content with the experience.I wish for you peace and a continued appreciation of the simple things of life.

I wouldn’t trade growing up on a farm for anything. The closeness to nature was almost heaven. As a teenager the isolation bothered me some, but now I long to have some of it back! I didn’t know what my spirit needed most was there under my own piece of sky, not “out there” reflected in the eyes of my peers. Wish I’d know then what I know now!

“Why are there trees I never walk under but large and melodious thoughts descend upon me? ~Walt Whitman~I think there is a place within each of us that provides a peaceful tranquil spot for us to rest ~ To get in touch with an inner identity & to discover the simple pleasures that make life worth living.Thank you always, dear friend for these melodious thoughts that you share with us~ 🙂 [~~

Edelweis

September 1, 2002

Hackberry tree? After we moved away from the farm we lived in a suburb like you describe and we played the same games in the surrounding woody area. How sad that trees and green disappeared for new houses. That was not different in our village. I like this entry, dear friend. You always paint such nice pictures with your words and it is as if I watch a movie. Thank you for this inspiring entry!

Some of my happiest childhood memories are of my family’s small farm. 🙂