Although I was an “off-again, on-again” resident of our beloved Espyville/North Shenango since I was a small child, several years spent living on the East Coast must have, somehow, dulled my senses and awareness as to several of the possible “delights” of our precious Region.
In 1982, when Carolyn and I acquired the first couple of lots of woods and wetlands which would eventually lead to an expanded area, we were MORE than excited!
Having purchased a tiny, single Coleman pop-up camper a few weeks earlier (as a result of my gently “edging” Carolyn into the realm and pleasures of camping, we spent several August days that year enjoying the now deserted Tuttle Campground.
As many will recall, Tuttle, in those days, was a true Regional treasure…well-groomed campsites, a stocked campstore, showers (with HOT water!), restrooms, trails, lecture areas, and, most of all…ELECTRICITY! We thought we were in Heaven, indeed!
One Sunday evening, as we made our way Southbound from the campground and headed homeward-bound to P’Burgh, we saw a sign attached to a tree on the corner of a dirt path and North Lake Road. LOTS FOR SALE! Carolyn INSISTED we stop and take a look.
WELL…we did. I pulled the little Coleman onto the dirt path…we exited the vehicle, and journeyed down the path.
WIPE-OFF THOSE FEET!!!
GOOSHHHHH!!!! Wetlands? Yeah, for sure! Woods??? Yep, again! Carolyn LOVED it!!! We sloshed from the pathway onto the lot areas. She was enchanted. “George, Honey, could we find out what we would have to do to buy a lot…or two?” Yeah, OK…
So, exiting the primordial swamp, we got back into the vehicle, backed-up the Coleman, and I copied the telephone number from the sign at the end of the “road.”
A week later, we met with the owner of the lots, and arranged to purchase our first two pieces of homeland. YAYYY!!!
Now, as I mentioned, Time on the East Coast had obliterated from my mind what exactly was in store for us upon this piece of property. NO PROB…we were like two little kids rolling with excitement.
AND THEN…
As Summer of 1982 edged towards closure, we decided to spend our last weekend together on our property. In those days, it was permissible (with the proper Temporary Occupancy Permit) to stay on your undeveloped property. We purchased the permit…hastened the Coleman to the pathway…and, edged, cautiously, down the dirt-way, stopping at a slightly open area to our lots.
Carolyn got out of our little truck, and sloshed onto the property to direct my approach.
OOPS!!! OH, NO!!! Assuming that the truck, a tiny 4-wheel drive Toyota would manage the culvert with no problem, and drag the camper behind onto our new homeland…I was MORE than wrong!
The front wheels trans versed the sloggy culvert…but, the rest of the load??? NO WAY! STUCK??? STUCK!!!! Of course!
Unhinging the camper, I pushed it aside (yeah, it wasn’t heavy, at all!!). Examined the truck, and with great ordeal, managed to back it out of the culvert. Now what???
After what seemed like several hours of thought and discussion, we agreed to gather fallen branches, etc to fill what we hoped would be a sight pathway over the culvert, upon which I could push the Coleman onto the property.
Since this was, for sure, a “Man’s Job”, I insisted that Carolyn could ONLY assist by helping to gather the wood and branches. I would move the camper. And…as the day slithered into evening, I DID move that 10 million pound camper.
By then, I looked like something out of a fright story: mud-covered head-to-toe, I was truly unrecognizable. Nevertheless, after a while, the mud began to dry, and as I moved around, I left a trail of dried platelets wherever I tread.
We opened the camper, laughed a LOT, shared some chipped ham and Town-Talk sandwiches, and settled in for the night. We were home!
AS AUTUMN ARRIVED…
Learning through error, we discovered that the placement of a simple culvert pipe would ease our problems of how to drive onto our land (up till now, we parked the little truck on the dirt path).
Carolyn’s Dad had arranged for us to acquire two sections of pipe from his workplace…pipe which was going to be discarded. I picked-up the pipe late one Friday afternoon, headed back to our rented townhouse, and Carolyn joined me. We headed Northward. It was too late as we arrived that evening to do anything with the culvert pipe. SO, we agreed that I would insert it the next morning, but, I INSISTED that I unload the sections of pipe from the bed of the pickup that evening.
Early morning, Saturday, I donned my “work clothes,” and proceeded to the pipe which I had unloaded the evening prior. The sections were short…merely 6 feet in length, and only 12 inches in diameter. It would be easy and simple to arrange them manually.
HEY, what’s that smell??? HMMM…deep from within my subconscious I seemed to partially recognize the aroma, but paid NO attention whatsoever.
I grabbed the first section of pipe, turned it on end…and…as I did so, something dropped out and fell onto the ground at my feet.
SUDDENLY, I completely remembered the aroma…SKUNK!!! SKUNK!!! WHOAA!!! I never, to this very day, ever ran so fast!!!
Fortunately, Momma Skunk, must have been somewhat groggy, since she simply waddled away after a few moments. Once again, a lesson re-learned from my childhood…BE CAUTIOUS!!!!
HERITAGE…
As the years progressed, and my “errors” decreased, we have been graced with the increasing Joy of having created our home on our beloved land. Despite the wetlands, the balance of which we have retained, and the awesome wild woods surrounding our house and my studio, the true essence of what makes it ALL so VERY precious has gradually edged into the surface of our Hearts and Spirit.
AND, we have come not only to expect, but to treasure the regular arrivals of the inhabitants with which we share our homeland.
Several weeks after the dropping of Momma Skunk onto my boots, we, Carolyn and I were relaxing around our recently built fire-circle one evening well after dark. After placing a few pieces of wood onto the campfire and reclining again into relaxation, we witnessed the slow, amble-ling arrival of an unexpected “guest” between the stones of the circle and the edge of the woods. MOMMA SKUNK…but she was not alone. Trailing behind was a line of her little “pups,” rushing to keep up with her. As Momma arrived directly across from us, and in our direct vision, she halted. Her pups gathered round her. She was proudly displaying her brood to us in the darkness of the night. After a brief respite, she and her troops headed onward. How precious…a moment to treasure FOREVER in our Hearts.
We assume she completely knew our every move…for, one evening a week or two later, she, once again, along with her growing brood, paid us visit..this time, was during the early morning hours, after the embers of the fire had burned-out. We were awakened by the sound of scratches outside the camper. I cautiously lit the flashlight and scoured the beam over the fire circle. There she was…teaching her children to root through the circle to chew on our discarded corncobs!
OVER THE YEARS
I suppose our Love and commitment to the Natural environment of our homesite and its original inhabitants has been TRULY recognized. Each season we are blessed with the arrival of many, many natural “visitors.” Moreover, the deeper Blessing is that the majority of these “visitors” trail along with them their children…perhaps to show them off to us, or to introduce them to Carolyn and myself.
Without fail, every year marks the arrival of another brood of “skunky pups.” WE earnestly believe that these new arrivals are the descendants of that Momma that I met back in the Autumn of 1982.
LIFE changes constantly…
The East Coast is FAR behind me, but is, to this very moment, an integral part of my Journey.
The years in Espyville with my Parents, and the Love and Beliefs which they instilled are the essence of who I am…the same is true for us all.
The Natural Environment speaks to us all the time…we simply need to take a moment, or two, or several, to listen to its Voice. The Truth encompasses us ALL.
You who are on the road
Must have a code that you can live by
And so become yourself
Because the past is just a good-bye.
Teach your children well…
(CROSBY, STILLS, and NASH)
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