All of my own stories which have appeared, or will appear in these pages are set in the country where I spent my young years; and I was reminded of many of them on this return to some of the territory of my youth. I confess I love the country still--particularly the countryside, the many beautiful villages, the farms...
... and the landscapes, the hedgerows, the green hillsides, the fields... (I will tell you one day my own memory of the Messerschmidt that crash-landed in a field not a quarter mile distant from our house.)
And the trees. The trees!
So many of them, everywhere. For a longtime resident of California, where trees seem by comparison dusty and sparse, the English trees are awesome, lush, magnificent, many of them ancient, huge, and green (except for the lovely copper beeches...) I still have these landscapes in my blood, and my heart sings as I travel through them.
I wish my nearly 5-year-old grandson, Luka, could write his boyhood memories now. Perhaps one day he will. He had such a great time, everywhere he went... The archetypal BOY!
So I'll be getting back to this blog in the next couple of days. Please bear in mind that readers' boyhood stories are welcome here. Writing them is a challenging exercise in self-awareness--and can be a pleasantly healing experience. You can send yours to me at the email address that's available if you click on the "complete profile" link in the top right hand column. I'll be happy to post them, with whatever attribution you desire--or none. If you come across a story, one day, that rings bells, it's only because we share so much experience in common. So... give it a thought.