'scuse Me While I Reminisce

The weather has turned. The clouds moved in, all sharp lines, those are rain clouds, snow clouds are softer along their edges. It has been some time since I have seen snow clouds; one of my favorite times was Thanksgiving. My family often made the pilgrimage to Mauthe Lake to spend the entire weekend up in the woods of the Kettle Moraine. By that time the leaves would be gone, only the oak, a stingy tree by nature would be clinging to its brown dried leaves, rasping in the wind, busy with squirrels harvesting the last of the acorns the scent of winter in their noses. Winter winds do have a particular scent to them, more of a fresh smell with the promise of Christmas snow in the offing. Back then I looked forward to the snow, the sledding, building forts and snowball fights. It was nature’s invitation to brave the cold and come out and play.

There were times we had snow for Thanksgiving, a thin skein of ice across the lake – sometimes my brother and would dare to walk out on the new ice, laugh at our Springer Spaniel’s attempts to run on the ice and slide halfway across the lake before she came to a stop, or watch foolish snowmobilers try to drive their heavy machines out on to the lake only to promptly break through and sink. Karma was exacting its toll for their disruption of the solitude of the forest. It is sad that we have grown apart from nature to some degree – those times with my brother in the woods are some of the fondest memories of childhood I have. Hiking or riding our bikes on the trial around the lake, taking the ‘”secret trail” through the swamp to get to New Prospect to buy candy, smoke bombs, and sometimes meal worms for fishing through the ice, if it was thick enough and some kind soul had drilled and abandoned a hole in the ice for us to fish through.

And the stars shone at night, unimpeded by bright city lights, Milwaukee was a smear of light in the distance so even the Milky Way shown in all its glory. We’d walk through the park at night to look for deer and pause to check out the sky, relish the quiet and dark, soak in the solitude and majesty of the woods. I miss walking the paths carpeted in the gold of shed Larch needles, colored crunch of leaves, or powered white snow, our tracks often the only ones to be seen. Those were indeed wonderful times. Happy Thanksgiving to you all…