A Memoir by Nancy Dachtler

It starts early in the summer far back among the grassy woods… The single sound is that of the forest – birdsong and children’s play. We all played in the sandbox at the edge of the forest. We made tunnels and roads and houses for snakes we’d found -- then rounded up buckets, filled with water, and flooded the sand – Destruction everywhere! And we built the tunnels and houses up again, only to destroy them over and over.

We played in the forest behind the neighbor’s house at the Elderberry Tree. We would dangle from the limbs and pretend - pretend - pretend. One time it would be a ship and we were all pirates. Another time the tree and its limbs would be an airship, and we would be the pilots.

Now years later, I thought I understood for the first time what a safe and carefree childhood we all had…no worries intruded and we managed to carry on in our playing and pretending until dark made us wander home -- Or a whistle from my father’s lips – or the clanging cow-bell that my mother used -- would call us from our perch up in the Elderberry Tree.

[This is from a recent workshop at The Sequim Library.]