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During a walk in the woods this frumpy fall day I came across the stump of a 36-year-old birch tree I cut last week while clearing a walking trail/snowmobile route close to camp. My mind imagined the forest fire that devastated this area 46 years ago. I marvelled at the wonder of this tree that started up in about 1977, ten years after the fire. I was teaching school in Fort Severn at the very moment that little seeding poked its shoot out of the forest floor.
Further back - somewhere about 1950 when I was six years old - I had my first lesson counting rings on a tree stump. That was a moment, and an era, that has been forever fondly etched in my soul. For a hint of those boyhood days in Vermont and a small tribute to two of my very favorite people go to www.dickmackenzie.com/id4.html . Scroll down to the picture of Mildred and Ira Hatch and my letter right below it.
For me, Fall is a season for sweet remembering.
Further back - somewhere about 1950 when I was six years old - I had my first lesson counting rings on a tree stump. That was a moment, and an era, that has been forever fondly etched in my soul. For a hint of those boyhood days in Vermont and a small tribute to two of my very favorite people go to www.dickmackenzie.com/id4.html . Scroll down to the picture of Mildred and Ira Hatch and my letter right below it.
For me, Fall is a season for sweet remembering.
