A PLACE TO GO BACK TO

When I want to escape the crazies for a few minutes, all I have to do is travel back in time to my Grandad &Grandmother Cluff's yard. I thought it was a Garden of Eden. It was a special place that invited peace, comfort, relaxation, or pure abandonment. A haven for a little girl. A verdant playground. Shady spots everywhere - green, cool, cool green (in the hot Arizona summers, that was heaven). Splashes of various colors that caught my eye in merry movement as the breeze ruffled petals and carried the sweet scents of so many different flowers to my sun kissed nose. The grass felt so refreshing on my little brown toes - especially after a long barefooted walk from our house jumping from one patch of shade, or grass, or weeds even, to another so as to spend as little time in the burning, soft, powdery dirt as possible. I can recall falling asleep amid the coolness and seclusion of the vines and slick leaves of myrtle around it's perimeter, or next to the little yellow & orange lantana in their pristine circular bed that mimicked the flower itself. Heavenly random naps after wearing myself out running, twirling until I was dizzy, and turning somersaults, or climbing trees.

Sometimes I just plopped down in one of the huge wooden chairs under the trees to catch my breath. So many trees. There were date palms, pecan, black walnut, crab apple, and the orchard just over the fence with apricots, plums, peaches, pears and every citrus tree you can imagine. It was like walking into a dark cool cave with smells of rich dark earth and ripe fruit. Of course there was the sunny berry patch with huge juicy blackberries that were my favorite. Berries so luscious & tasty it was worth getting scratches all over my hands while picking them. How fun making dolls from hollyhocks. Prim little ladies in their flowing colorful skirts. And what a special treat to have one of my sisters or my brother Jimmy tie a string around a June bug for me to fly him like an airplane - around and around and around. And then there was the swing. O, what a swing. It was the tallest swing I ever saw. It's huge posts were covered with trumpet vines - their bright fluted petals trumping out my joy as I went higher and higher over the fish pond - always with that feeling in the pit of my stomach that wanted to go still higher, yet was a tiny bit afraid of the swing breaking, letting me fall into the water. I treasure the times Grandmother trusted me to feed the fish - sending me out with a box of Quaker Oats. I ate handfuls myself but did let the fish have some. What a sense of security and belonging and love in that wonderful place, and how thrilled I am to be able to visit it in my musings whenever I want...