A Hundred Acre Wood

For nearly two years I have been walking nearly everyday. Usually I walk through the Kelley Creek Parkway near my home in Gresham, Oregon. I love to walk. I meditate, I dream, I enjoy the changing seasons around me. I have walked in the cold of winter and the heat of summer. No two walks are the same.

One of my dreams is to have my very own Hundred Acre Wood. I guess I have always been jealous of Winnie the Poo and his friends. All of their adventures take place in their Hundred Acre Wood.

Growing up in the small town of Lyons, Oregon, I had hundreds of acres of woods to explore, but not a single acre was mine. Some my friends explored with permission, some we explored without permission, which we added to the adventure. In those days nothing was ever said. We only cut down trees that had no commercial value, primarily alder and Viney Maple. We dug holes and built forts and played war and cowboys and Indians.

I have been cleaning up computer files and I came across something it had written on March 20, 2002 about the park and my dream.

Spring had arrived in the Portland area. I celebrated by taking a walk through the parkway, which is an undeveloped City of Gresham park. Houses surround the parkway, yet the only sounds usually birds, the rushing water in Kelly Creek, and an occasional jet headed for Portland International Airport.

Actually it’s the spillway of a flood control dam that creates the sound. The sky was blue and there was a hint of warmth in the air, a sign of the coming spring. Leaves were appearing on the underbrush. Awakened to the coming spring, the birds were cheerfully singing. I spotted a squirrel sitting on a branch and eating what I assume is food saved from last fall. Is he thinking of the free stuff that will be coming as the seasons change?

Mother Nature and her helpers, the birds and small animals, plant the trees in a haphazard fashion.

Every time I walk through the parkway I get a clearer vision of my own hundred-acre wood.

I want wild land, overgrown, with lots of underbrush and stands of trees. There are thousands of such acres in Western Oregon. A lot of it was logged and forgotten. With small hills and valleys the sights change as I walk along the paths. The valleys can provide for small seasonal streams and the hills for vista points. There is also a health benefit. The hills provide a little exercise.

My paths are wide enough for two people and covered with shale to allow year around walking. This is Oregon and one must be prepared for rain.

For the most part I have left the haphazard plantings of Mother Nature. Brush had to be cleared to build the paths and a few small meadows were developed. Bridges were built over the low spots where seasonal streams.

One of my favorite spots is Spirit House, a small storage shed size cabin located in the far corner of my hundred-acre wood. There is no electricity. A Lateran provides light. A table and a couple of chairs are the only furnishings this is a place for meditation and thinking. I carry a coffee thermos and by notebook. Here I can spend hours reading from one or more of the uplifting books that I have stocked the cabin with.

There are other dreams I have about my hundred ace wood. They will have to wait for another day. It’s time to head out the door for my daily walk.