The Treasures of Childhood

In those far-off days of my country childhood, there were many little pleasures that still come to mind as I miss those early experiences. Do the youngsters of today, the city-bred ones, know such innocent joy?

I cannot forget wading barefoot at dawn on a spring morning, through dew-laden grass leading to a pasture where young stock grazed. How cold our "tootsies" were! But our pleasure was looking back and seeing the pathway we had made just traipsing through the foot-high dewy grasses. Such innocent fun! And often we'd see lacy spider webs, heavy with the morning dew. There is nothing more beautiful or amazing than the intricacy of a spider’s web. Even my mother's dainty crocheted doilies couldn't compare, really.

Did you ever—barefoot again—roam with a sibling on a warm sunny summer day in a pasture, well "chewed down" by the family cows? Here and there grew the gorgeous prickly thistles with their lovely blossoms. I was always intrigued watching a butterfly or a bumblebee amid the tufts of such a flower. Later in the summer, along roadsides, the milkweed blooms would be laden with butterflies.

What joy it was, when we came upon a bush purple with the beauty of ripe, luscious blueberries. Have you ever crammed your mouth full of huge, juicy berries, the ones with that grayish blush upon the enticing blue color? They taste so much more refreshing than the dark purple ones. If you were supposed to be gathering a pailful for Mama, how many special big ones went into your drooling mouth before filling the container?!

We—brother and I—took great pleasure in wading in the tiny brook in our fragrant woods. (We had lots of hemlock and pine around, you see.) We loved to dam it up, to make a small pool where the wading was more fun. (The dams would wash away with the first rainstorm.) As we grew older, we fished along a wider, more energetic brook where huge rocks held hidden haunts of small trout. I think we always came home bearing not only a six-inch trout but also a quantity of treasures found along our jaunt: unusual small stones, jack-in-the-pulpit flowers, wild watercress, perhaps a sprig of forget-me-nots, or later in a summer a precious fringed gentian.

As a "city kid," what did a curious youngster have to spark his or her interest? I hope you had at least a city park to explore. As in my country setting, I hope you had all kinds of birds and insects to learn about. We even got excited to see a "horn worm," so green and chubby, as he ate away our tomato plant. Ugly, perhaps, but intriguing. How about mysterious bats that fly about so silently at near-dark, catching mosquitoes? You wonder how they miss you as they skim through the darkness.

Have you had the joy and thrill of catching lighting bugs (fireflies) in a jar? We always stubbed a toe or two as we dashed around the rocks and bushes trying to be smarter than those fairy lanterns! Can you recall sitting in a creaking porch swing, after dark, and hearing a hoot owl nearby—or, worse yet, a screech owl? But to offset that eerie experience was the plaintive call of the elusive whip-poor-will. I loved that sound; no longer do we seem to have them in our area, regretfully.

On very rare occasions someone in the family would find a butterfly cocoon. If it was kept in a warm place, it might open up one day, and a miraculous spectacle would occur, as a beautifully colored, full-grown specimen slowly and painfully emerged. It gave anyone watching a feeling of "What a wonderful God!"

To find a hummingbird's abandoned nest is a rare delight. How tiny! And to watch a ruby-throated adult bird as he hovers, draws back, advances and sips a flower's nectar, is another lesson in nature.

To feed a lump of sugar to the farm horse is a thrill never to be forgotten. To feel the soft velvet of his gentle lips is a rare privilege to enjoy, and even to dare to offer the treat is an experience in itself. I always liked the special smell of a horse and loved to pet his smooth neck. He seemed to understand the gesture as a sign of love. Petting a favorite cat is just as satisfying, especially if she responds by licking your hand with her tongue. I feel that my cat is saying "I love you, too."

Have you ever found a batch of young kittens nestled in a haymow? If you are lucky enough to locate some who are not scared, there is no greater pleasure than cuddling one of those little, furry, purring treasures. And often their mama is so proud of them that she rubs her face against them, softly talking to them as only a mother can.

City folks rarely get to see the amazing array of colors in a rainbow, the spectacle of the northern lights or a sunset after rain. Witnessing these moments of beauty, one feels a sense of awe, often akin to worship.

God has blessed His children with so many everyday miracles. Think about that and respect—and really enjoy to your utmost— the memory of those wonderful experiences that were a part of your childhood.