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PLACES IN THE HEART.....it's the title of a movie starring Sally Fields, and that's about all I remember...oh, and it took place in Texas. I hope Sally won't mind my borrowing the title for today's FR's Finest theme. But I want to use that phrase in a certain way, and tie it into Christmas...
Christmas...We think of the season and nostalgia and memories overwhelm us! How could they not? We think of loved ones, family and friends, not seen for awhile.....past Christmases and the trips we took to join our families. We remember our children, when they were young and seeing the season through their innocent eyes. Actually, we carry these memories with us all year round, but at this time of year, the images and awareness of them is heightened...more vivid than most other times.
And that brings me to "Places" because for me, that is a special nostalgia category. This particular category is filed away in my heart throughout all the months, but as Christmas comes, the memories and joys of these locations gain strength and power, and I remember...
I remember the coastal plain on the mainland north of Galveston, Texas, where I was born. When I lived there as a girl in the 1950s, there were few trees or natural objects rising above the flat, low land. My father planted a few trees in our new yard to provide shade as did our neighbors, but the pine and oak forests were away to the east of us on the plain. The land itself lay at about sea level or rose a few feet above it. What did rise above the bayous and land? Why oil wells of course! And refineries, and houses on tall stilts,and the Causeway from the mainland to the Island. That structure did not rise high enough however, because whenever too-tall ships would pass through the Bay, up would go the center section, halting traffic (and restless children) for what seemed like hours.
As a little girl, closer to home, I loved to be outside - even in the steambaths that passed for a Gulfcoast summer.
The restless horned toads in the field behind our house, the fragrant flowers of the oleanders which lined our driveway, and the flat, wide leaves of the banana tree next to our front door captured my attention and study.
And at the end of the street were the tempting dangers of the bayou!
Well, I survived childhood, giving my mother early gray hairs along the way.
My father was transferred in 1960, and we moved away, "up North."
It was years before I was able to return...busy, busy years of school, marriage and young children...
And, when I finally did, the intervening years fell away in a second. My heart recognized its familiar landscape!
Those images had never really left me...were only stored away in my heart.
The second location I carry with me always is Fauquier, Co., Virginia.
That's pronounced "Faw-keer" for all you non-Virginians!
This northern county of that beautiful state lies north of the Rappahannock River, and south of Manassas.
The rolling hills form the Piedmont Plateau, leading to the western mountains, the perfectly named "Blue Ridge."
Here and there the red clay hills are dotted with ash, beech and maple trees...and flowering dogwood.`Hawks patrol the skies.
Blue lobelias and laurels grow along the lowlands on either side of the Runs. Elk Run, Cedar Run, Licking Run, Tinpot Run...all flow into the Rappahannock.
My mother's family farmed property along these creeks for generations....But I've often wondered just how productive that red clay soil was....
Whenever possible I return to these graceful hills. The sight of them renews me...rewards me with their beauty and spirit.
And now my father is buried on one of them, in the middle of an old family plot, watched over by the soaring and vigilant hawks.
In the summer of '93, my husband, our 2 sons and I, made our first big trek to the West & Denver....and the route I'd planned took us along the old Oregon Trail, all through Nebraska and eastern Wyoming, following the Platte River.
We drove as far as Casper along this route, before dropping down to Denver.
But I, planning the trip, and with an agreeable husband, didn't choose the quickest route south.
Oh no! We had to take two little travelled roads down to Medicine Bow - remember The Virginian?? Starting out that morning, I confessed to my husband that this was our true destination and the object of my interest!
The road took us through an intermountain area, called the Shirley Basin.
South of Casper, there was little to see, except some old mining properties, pronghorn sheep, and the Cheney Ranch. The typical western gate and sign graced the entrance to the property. The dirt road led off to the west, if my memory is correct, no buildings visible.
But there was something more of interest along the way, at the juncture of the two state roads: a rest stop... a SOLAR-POWERED rest-stop. Newly built and as modern as it could be, the facility stood....in the middle of what most of us, if not the good people of Wyoming, would call "nowhere."
My family laughed at the incongruity, wondered at the number of visitors, and yes, we admired its operation....so much so that 2 years later, on another Denver trip, we returned there, going out of the way to make the pilgrimage.
Years later, we still laugh at the serendipity! On our way to deserted Medicine Bow, we found the world's most modern rest-stop!
If I were to write a book about our family's travels, I think a picture of this building would decorate the cover, as a symbol of the unexpected finds & laughs of family vacations.
And that is the third, special Place in my Heart.
Do you have such favorite locales?
What are they? WHY are they?
Tell us and share your heart!
Our thanks to you, once again, Molly Pitcher, for being a guest writer today.
.....daisyscarlett
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A Few of FR's Finest.....
