Ever since I can remember I have
been fascinated by and drawn to the culture of the Native American Indian, all of them; not just those of the area of my childhood. Growing up in the foothills of the Northern Appalachia Mountains, we were all familiar with and intrigued by Indians and their history.
In many cases it isn’t until
after you leave a place or something that you fully realize the wondrousness of it.
That is definitely something that I can personally relate to in so many ways.
It wasn’t until I returned to the Ohio Valley with my husband that I became so much aware of the treasure that is my home.
In many ways it was like watching
a child experiencing life for the first time. My husband had never lived anywhere
outside of his hometown in Texas. When he came with me to Ohio to live,
he was awed by the beauty of the changing seasons and the closeness of nature. I
had been born and raised here; nature and the animals had always been such an enormous part of my life that I hadn’t
really thought about it beyond the knowledge that I loved it.
My husband had never lived in a place
where securing your outside trash cans was a must in an effort to try to control the pilferage habits of raccoons. You didn’t leave your dog food bowls out 24/7 so as not to draw opossums or other small night creatures. You understood from childhood that there is no such thing as one rabbit and that applied
to cats as well, sometimes even if all you have is a Tomcat.
He had never seen a deer much less
a small herd of them, complete with a fully racked Buck. Before coming back to
Ohio with me, he had not been able to grasp the full concept that the chipmunk, a tiny creature that appeared
to be a miniature squirrel that ran with something close to the speed of light. He
was amazed by the sight of Red Fox that would cut through the back yard in the early dawn hours. There were other animals the ‘trespassed' over our back yard in the early evening hours that would
always spark that ‘childlike' curiosity, animals like rabbits and groundhogs.
Even Skunks, which never failed to strike a humorous (on my part) level of fear in him.
However, I think it was the close
presence and sporadic encounters with bears that brought the most humorous responses out in me, at his expense of course. But I think the animal that fascinated him the most wasn’t the four legged kind,
but the predatory Hawks, since they were in reality a lot smaller than he had thought they were.
My husband had never really been
an outdoors person in the sense of being a hunter, but he did enjoy fishing on a regular basis. He was amazed at the number of lakes, rivers and creeks and found that he never had enough time to spend
fishing. He never really developed a love for boating, but he would take a ride
on one every once in awhile as it was the only way to get to really see some of the beauty that was here.
Even during my years in the Army,
I always picked the first part of August for my first trip home each year. August
being my birthday, I enjoyed spending it at home with my family. I enjoyed it
because the weather was perfect to be able to get out and really enjoy family, friends and just be outside with nature. My second trip home was usually around the end of September, the younger relatives
were back in school by then and it was a lot less chaotic.
Having traveled nearly the world
over, I will always call the foothills of the Appalachia Mountains my home. The greater majority of my family
still lives there and the history of my family began in those hills.
