Purely a Little Nostalgia

I'm blessed to live within half an hour of any place I lived as a child. In fact, just the other day, I was feeling nostalgic and took Carter to play in my forest park in Lake Forest. It is a huge patch of Eucalyptus trees planted in the 1900's to deal with a shortage of lumber in California. They were never cut, and our houses were built around the natural edge of the forest. I call it "my" forest park because I spent many Saturdays catching tadpoles in the creek, swinging on the tree swing and picking blackberries from random bushes and eating them--sorry mom and dad, but I guess they were not poisonous. It was my private little kingdom, an escape from the heat of the day and a quiet place where the neighborhood kids, my sister and I could run, shout, splash and giggle to our hearts' content. We'd run around for hours under the canopy of Eucalyptus trees, adventuring and exploring.
One of my favorite spots in the forest was the horse stable. It was a small, friendly little stable area that always smelled like baking hay and that glorious, sweet smell that is perfectly equine. Like every other little girl, I'd pet the horses and dream of what my own horse would be and how graceful and amazing I would feel as I rode it. Along the course of the stable was a fairly wide and vivacious creek, which would occupy many of our hours with bridge building, skipping rocks, racing sticks and catching tadpoles. The creek ran along the length of the forest, and deep in the dark recesses of the mighty Eucalyptus was the best park a kid could ever find. It was made out of lincoln log type wood poles. Along with swings and a slide, it had a zip line, a tire swing and high platforms to climb. It was a hybrid between a park and a living extension of the forest around it. Needless to say, changes in what defines Orange County and state safety laws keep them from building parks like that anymore.
I took Carter and Micah to see this special spot. I knew it had changed, but it was a little sad to see the reality of those twenty five years since I'd run around there. The forest had been thinned tremendously, and it had been cleared completely where the park had been. They completely tore down my lincoln log looking playset and replaced it with proper-looking, refined play structures--resin platforms, clean swings and bright slides that looked as if they had nothing to do with the forest around them. Dirt paths in the forest had been manicured and paved, with fit joggers running by periodically. A cement path led to the stables, which had been fenced around, no longer allowing strangers to randomly enter and enjoy the horses. I had only a quick peek at the creek, because Carter was afraid to leave the cement and enter the untamed, dirt path that wound through some bushes to get there. It was still wide and apparent, but it was stagnant and dark--mossy and a bit foreboding. I wonder if it runs over the rocks, singing water songs in the winter, when the water is high?
The forest park probably appeared as different as I do if someone were to compare the thirty-four year old me to the little eight-year old who skipped through the leaves in the forest. There is a hidden resemblance that you can unexplicably see, but more has changed than remained the same. So, it isn't "my" forest anymore. I am sure it is a great park, but it is safe, tamed and a little less grand. The best part of the visit was the smell of the Eucalyptus trees. That hasn't changed. I took a deep breath of the forest air--peppery, with a little hint of sweet perfume. I smiled, and I was eight again.