Last summer I went on a walk with my sisters, Sarah and Tirzah, with the intent of picking huckleberries and getting exercise. Our house is one of the last on our road, so the pavement turns into gravel just beyond us. Whenever we get a chance, we go walking up the windy, dusty road, filled with deep potholes. Well, this is where we walked on this particular August day as we talked about school and life...and berries.
When we got a ways down this gravel road, we noticed a little trail off the road that was just big enough for a car. We decided to take our chances and see where it led. There were faint tire tracks in the dirt; but it was hard to believe that a car could drive this trail--it was full of roots bulging from the ground and deep ruts scooping into the dirt...
We soon came upon a fenced "garden" which seemed to only grow weeds. Oh, but who am I to judge? Our garden is equally as prosperous in such greenery. It did not appear to be well kept, which gave us no clues as to the population of this area. However, it was a sign that there had been life here at some recent point in history. So we continued on, feeling like spies.
|The only thing resembling food. We didn't try it. Probably a poison trap for trespassers.|
From the chicken coop we could see a cute little cabin sitting on the top of a hill. The trail (or road) up to the house was well kept, although narrow. Stacks of wood were between several trees, and a ladder was resting near the house. It definitely looked inhabited in the present tense.
Feeling very brave and even more like spies, we continued on, ready to jump behind a tree at the sound of any unfamiliar voice. (because we all know hiding behind trees is safe and protective. I mean, Lucy Pevensie did it and ended up finding a friend.) The little house was so tempting. And, judging by the lack of vehicles, it appeared that no one was around at the moment. I felt like a crime reporter as I snapped several pictures of the scene.
Hiding behind a tree between the house and the chicken coop sat an open outhouse. We decided not to stick around too long.
As we approached the house, we noticed the neatly placed shingles and a large swing hanging in the trees behind the house. Everything looked so perfect that it was hard to blame Goldilocks now. Well, we restrained ourselves, so we didn't actually go into the house. No, we didn't even get on the porch. But we could see paint brushes and jars in the window sill. A large bike hung on the wall, too. On the other side of the house was a little outdoor sink with the gutter running into it for a source of water. Everything was rustic, yet still quite adorable. By now, being on the other side of the house and some distance from the road, I resisted taking more pictures. It felt very strange sneaking through the woods and looking in the windows of some stranger's house. Taking pictures of everything would only make us more suspicious.
The neat trail continued on past the house, descending from the peak of the hill. It appeared to be going toward the river. Wood piles were scattered through the woods. For a moment we decided to keep following the trail to see where it led. We were still in sight of the house when we began to think through the possible results of that decision. What if mystery man was at the river/end of the trail? We would be so far from anything familiar...our adventures had brought us far enough. Thankfully we had encountered no one, and it would probably be better not to press our luck. So we turned back and crept back out the way we had come, bidding the chickens farewell and stealing some huckleberries on the way.
Maybe someday I will write some mysterious story on this adventure of ours....but for now, this will have to do. Thanks for being the brave leader and making a new memory with us, Sarah!