A Little Goes a Long Way

Forest

Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt

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Terry loves a good forest, especially the woods of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, where he grew up.  His childhood stories always include camping out–by himself–as a little boy, with his dog and his gun.  He’d shoot a squirrel for his supper, and sit soaking in the night sounds of the woods around him.  Never occurred to him to be afraid, not of animals or human predators.  It was a different time.

birch trees in a summer forest

It really  is beautiful up there, if you don’t mind mosquitoes the size of hummingbirds, and deer flies on a mission. When we walked together, they never bothered him.  That’s because they were all attracted to MY irresistible charms.

We honeymooned at his dad’s delightful hunting cabin in the woods.  Situated on a fast-moving small river, it was picture perfect.  Even the outhouse was set so that there was no odor.

Yes, I did say outhouse.  And the bathtub was a tin washtub.  Romantic.

All was wonderful until the day I ventured out behind the cabin to explore, and came upon a whole bevy of snakes stretched out on a rock getting an early spring tan. I’m sure my screams could be heard in Chicago 🙂  Terry came running out, sure I had fallen and broken my leg or something.  When he figured out what was behind the scream, he wasn’t terribly sympathetic.  “Garter snakes, Linda.  For Pete’s sake, they never hurt anyone. They’re just trying to get warm.”

Bah, humbug.

Terry still loves the woods, and probably always will wish he’d gone to Alaska to disappear into the wilderness to build his own cabin and live like that guy on PBS who lived like a hermit up there. I explained to him with great tact that I did not fancy the idea of doing my laundry in a tub, with a washboard; nor of having it freeze on the clothesline while I stomped around on snowshoes trying not to break the sheets in half when I took them off the line.  Nor would I enjoy gutting fish and whatever other animal my Tarzan brought home for me to deal with. Not. Going. There.

Also, not interested in birthing babies in a log cabin thousands of miles away from anyone who could help me if things went wrong.   There are women who would relish that sort of life.  I was not one of them.

Forests are indeed beautiful, but honestly? One tree is pretty much like another after a mile or so of tramping through the woods.  Now, take me to the Rose Gardens in Portland, Oregon; or to Longwood Gardens here in PA?  Yeah, that I can enjoy.  And so can Terry.  There’s always a compromise.

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Longwood Gardens Wysteria Garden in the spring.  So beautiful!

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/forest.

 

 

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