Remembering

This weekend, I thought of some of my childhood memories and one got my pen moving. It was about the hill at the end of Muskopf Road in Fairfield (named after my great-grandfather's farmhouse at the end of the road). While a youth, I spent many hours wandering up and down and all over the hill and the small forest which was on it and around it. I think it was these walks which laid the foundation for my fascination with landscape which found itself expressed through my paintings. I thought I'd post the piece here. The format is loosely based on George Ella Lyon's poem "Where I'm From".

I'm from the twinkling blue sky
peaking through green leaves
I'm from the damp, rich musk of the
forest floor after a rain
with the mud sucking at my boots
with a loud "glug" and "smack"
I'm from the sound of birds singing and squirrels
crashing like elephants through dry leaves
I'm from the steep hill, the fallen log
covered with moss over a cool stream
I'm from the sense of panic knowing
I'm in trouble again, not home in time
Late for dinner, not back before dark,
muddy again
I'm from the sad realization of more lawnmowers
fences, driveways, and dogs barking
Of knowing that my vast wilderness
became a tiny hill between neighborhoods