My Pine Forest

I grew up in a small town in southeastern New Hampshire. That is where I developed my love for the outdoors. As there was not much to do, I (with my brothers and sisters…and friends) spent a lot of time exploring. I loved running around in the woods, playing in fields, climbing trees and just sitting and watching animals ‘doing their thing’ in the forest.

When I look back at my past, I will say that my fondest memory would be at the age of 9, at my grandmother’s house in Newcastle, ME.

She had a large house on a private road. The house sat on a cliff, overlooking the Atlantic and bordered on two sides by a forest of large pine trees. I did love sitting out in the yard, looking out over the beautiful beach and watching the waves crash on the rocks below. My siblings and I had a great time climbing up and down the 50 foot cliff and playing at ‘our beach.’ But most of all…when thinking about this time…I can…still to this day, close my eyes and transport myself back to the pine forest surrounding the house.
I inhale and can smell the soothing aroma of pine. I walk barefoot on the ‘featherbed’ of pine needles that line the floor of the forest. The gentle crackling of the dried needles beneath my bare feet send tingles up my spine. I lie down, feeling the softness of the forest floor. Looking up, the tall pines shelter me on all sides. Large pine cones are scattered, as if sprinkles on a cupcake. I could sit there for days, walking, sitting and staring at the glimpses of sky through the tall bushy trees, rolling around…getting the needles stuck in my clothing and in my big head of hair. It is pure delight.

My love for that little forest of mine was enhanced by the constant smell of salt in the gentle ocean breeze, along with the feeling of being completely safe and secure in ‘My Pine Forest.’