I can look at this picture and hear the rush of the river, feel the cool air on my face and catch a scent of pine and rich, moist earth if I try hard enough. It takes me far, far, far back in time to my childhood, when we lived in Ventura, California. Being from deep in the hills of Arkansas, Daddy often got a hankering for the wilderness, so he and Mom would pack a lunch, buy some salmon eggs and fishing line, and haul me up into the mountains between Ventura and Santa Barbara, where there was no traffic, and where the streams were fresh and filled with fish. Don't ask me what kinds of fish, because this all happened before I turned five.

As soon as we arrived at a creek Daddy took his hatchet and cut bamboo shoots for fishing poles, then strung line for all three of us. Now that I think about it, I don't know if we ever even caught a fish. That wasn't my favorite part of the trip. What I loved was being safe with Mom and Daddy, enjoying the beauty of God's world all around us, playing in the stream, watching pollywogs, plucking cattails for Mom to decorate with, eating bologna sandwiches without having to worry about my weight. Oh, the good times.

What about you? Do you have memories of happy times when you were safe with people you loved, you believed life would always be good, and the simple act of eating bologna and mayonnaise on white bread was a real treat?

Labels: beautiful California, childhood, fishing, memories, mountains