>>651569>cont'dMy childhood was filled with adventures in the woods, and when we were old enough to explore all the way back to the field it was like a rite of passage. That old stone wall, laying there in the shadows, overgrown, covered in vines. It's hard to even see out into the field during summer because the brambles and vines are so thick at the edge. Old trees of cider apples grow feral in the thicket beyond the wall, too deep to even sample an apple. This is what made the field itself so great. It was hard to get to, and when you did, the world opened-up into what seemed like an endless green pasture with the biggest sky you could ever get to see in New England. The view from the top was amazing, especially for a kid. The slope down the opposite side would grow acres of milkweed in the fall and we'd spend the day out there having wars with milkweed pods, throwing them at each other until someone got the juice and their eye and cried.
