In
any history class they will tell you that events of the past were shaped by the
geography of the area. Well I am an event. I am a pretty spectacular event,
brighter than a super nova, quick as a whip, and as sweet as the smell of
honeysuckle. Sometimes I feel as if I am a rose nestled in the valley of my
home. In fact, I suppose my mom named me accurately seeing how my middle name
is Rose, and I do live in the middle of a valley. Tucked away in the hills you
will find Ohio Caverns and a small ways south of there you will find a quaint
little place.
To
know how this place shaped me, you must first know me. I am stubborn,
independent, sarcastic, and creative. I learned gardening, cleaning, and
driving all at a young age. When I was three years old I knew how to start the
old Ford tractor. This skill meant that my parents had to take the battery out
of the thing prior to placing me in the seat. I also learned about loss, death,
and purpose here.
This place is partly responsible for shaping the event
that is me. This is where I learned right from wrong, how to count, and how to
speak. This is also where I had multiple near death experiences, learned how to
shoot a gun, and had many other daring adventures. This crazy place is where I
want to take you, it is a place as remote as an island, as peaceful as a warm
breeze, and as beautiful as any wonder of the world. This crazy place is home.
Let’s start with the near death experiences. There was
this one time in particular where my dad and I were parked on the side of a
hill. He got off to inspect the apple and pear trees. He comes back, gets in
the driver’s position, and we start moving. Only not in the right direction.
Instead of having the four wheels of the ATV on the ground where they should
be, they are in the sky. That’s right, we were rolling down the hill. As you
can imagine such an event can result in paralysis or even death. Thankfully
that wasn’t the case. My daddy kept me safe. While we were rolling he was
trying to push the ATV off of us so that it didn’t land on my small ten year
old body. This taught me that I have a wonderful daddy, who even in the brief
instant it took to start rolling down that hill thought only of my safety. This
was not the last time I would learn this lesson.
Following all the near death experiences my dad and I
had, my mom would be there to ensure that we were ok and in one piece. Scolding
my dad for being so precariously perched in such odd situations she would give
us food, ice packs, and the good spot on the couch. Love and tenderness were
also learned here.
In between the hills and down a long drive you will find seemingly
endless rows of trees. They are walnut to be specific. Why rows? Honestly your
guess is as good as mine. I have lived there for almost twenty-one years and
the best answer I have is, why not rows? In high school I would run these
seemingly infinite rows of trees to get in shape for cross-country. In these
trees you would see only the pattern that sunlight could take on as it fell
from between the leaves above. This was a good place for running, simply
because it was much cooler under all those trees.
Behind
those rows of trees you will find a small pasture that slopes down to a pond
and a stream. This is where I would go camping with my cousins, we had great
bonding times here. The muddy brown water of the stream is traversed by a
rickety old bridge. This is the prettiest spot on our property in the spring.
You can hear frogs, crickets, and you can even see the occasional turtle.
Just past the stream is a thicket of trees
that conceal abandoned railroad tracks. The remoteness of this place is what
has allowed its secrets to be so special. Its green grass, concealing trees, and all-encompassing environment are not a backdrop. They are the director, conductor, and the producer of what I consider to be one of the most critical stories ever.
Had it not been for the country setting I would not have learned shooting or driving when I did. I may not have developed the undeniable love of country and western culture had it not been for the remoteness of my location and the presence of so much privacy. I have about as much attachment to my environment as the trees that grow there do. I love it, its trees, smells, and sights. It was beautifully created and in some ways it has shaped me as much as I have shaped it.
I keep coming back to this image of my home. It is snowing outside, the ground is completely covered with white everywhere you turn. The chaos of snow flurries is set against the backdrop of orderly rows of walnut trees and a picnic table. The trees are a strong black presence amongst the busy snow. The branches are reaching out into the atmosphere, like some sort of homing beacon. Thankfully this image was able to be captured and it is on my wall now. I love this picture, it describes the essence of home in 3x5 inches. It shows you the coziness, serenity, and remoteness better than any story ever could. This is home, and this is where I have taken you.
