Paths Down the Hill

           Up at the cabin we spent our days playing outside, either down at the creek or by Grandma and Grandpa’s cabin.    We would get downstairs one of two ways.  First, there was the path that hugged the side of the hill.  It was steep, so Grandpa strung a long piece of heavy wire from tree to tree to keep us from falling over the side.  The path always seemed to have a layer of pine needles on it, which we had to rake off so it wouldn’t be slippery.  Mom told us over and over not to run down the hill, but it was really hard not to.  The path was so steep that once you got going your legs just couldn’t seem to slow down.

          One day when I was little I was eager to get down the hill, so I began running.  Once started I couldn’t stop, and I went faster and faster.  There's a feeling of freedom, running down hill.  It doesn't take any energy to keep going, and it's almost like flying.  But near the bottom of the path a tree root  caught my foot, and suddenly I was falling head over heels, right into a big rock someone had left lying under the pine tree at the bottom of the hill. That stopped me!   I howled so loud that Mom rushed out of the cabin upstairs, Dad and Grandpa came running from the garden,  and Grandma poked her head out of her cabin to see what was wrong.  I had a huge goose-egg rising on my forehead, and for awhile Mom was afraid it would swell so big it would break open.  Grandma wet a cloth with cold water from the well, and they held it on my head as mom rocked me back and forth on her lap.  Eventually the lump went down and I stopped crying, but I remembered that fall and tried not to run down the hill anymore.

The other way down from the cabin was the rock stairs Dad built at the back of the hill.  They were big rocks, and they made good stepping stones.  There was a large tree stump two-thirds of the way down the hill.  It gave us a place to stop and hold onto, as we made a 90 degree turn and slid the rest of the way down.  At the bottom of the hill was a large tree whose trunk was split in two, leaving a V in the middle big enough to climb through.  Dad attached a wire fence to both sides of the tree, and it made a natural gate we climbed through.  No one could run down that path, it was too steep, but since it was shorter and closer to the creek we usually went that way, even though you had to be careful not to trip and fall.  It was really tricky when you were holding a fishing pole, a sack of cookies, or your barbie dolls, all necessary equipment for going down to play at the creek.