Cook Forest

  I have a place in my mind’s eye, as I sit here in my office.  There is a hint of what I envision surrounding me as I sit in my swivel chair.  The hint is found in the wood paneling.  The place in my mind is Cook Forest.  Let us be clear on the Cook part.  There is no 's making it Cook’s Forest, a common mistake my kids like to correct each other on.  I know this for a fact because I used to give Cook an extra S until the rustic timber signs, that grace most State Parks, corrected me as I got older.
  Cook Forest is a place of history, my family history.  I have been going there since I was 16 years old.  Wait, I take that back.  I was 16 the first time my Mom took all my siblings while I was left to stay with my Dad, who had to work.  Something about teenage attitude.  Whatever.  It’s been over thirty years that this forest has welcomed my family for a week out of every summer.
  We started in a single River cabin when it was my family of origin.  My Mom and Dad and us twelve children.  I can still hear shouts of laughter mixed with the scent of popcorn as it softly rained outside, calling for game night inside.

  Eventually, as we grew into family units of our       own, we moved to the Indian cabins.  These tiny,
single-room, log cabins with chinking, held us for a few years until the babies kept coming and we returned to the original large River cabins on the upper tier.  This is the best place to see if the Clarion River is full enough to go tubing.  It’s amazing how laughter from the river can bounce its echo up into the trees, like a call beckoning us to come play.

  There was one summer, July of 2004, when there were more tears than laughter.  That was the summer my Dad died.  Still, Cook Forest gathered us in.  Hugged in her trees, bathed in her river, we held one another and remembered Dad.

  My husband and I now bring our seven children to these rustic cabins that ALWAYS smell the same.  Each year, our vacation begins the same, with the kids running into the cabin, inhaling loudly and exhaling the words, “Coooook Foressst”.

  Traditionally, our cabin is framed in majestic trees which open to frame bright clusters of stars at
night while a campfire draws all of us together below.  We number about 60 now and take up all the River Cabins and three quarters of the Indian cabins.  You can imagine our campfire circles are pretty big.  When we descend on the Cooksburg Café for ice cream, we often fill every metal table, log bench, and every inch of standing room.  This is right next to the Café sign where the bats like to roost. Just a bit of extra fun.

  Yes, I like looking at this wood paneling in my office.  If I close my eyes long enough I can almost hear the whooshing of the wind that rustles through the tall trees in Cooksburg, PA.  I know what you’re thinking…Cooksburg has an S.  Just trust me on this…it’s COOK (no S) Forest and you should go if you get the chance.  Listen for the screams of laughter up on the hill.

I See Skies of Blue...

Summer is here!  Yes, HERE...as in "x marks the spot"!  Who would have thought that whilst we were still shoveling out the great-white North, the seedlings buried underground were busy doing their seedling business.

  And now, as temperatures soar and the skies turn a brilliant blue there is a hazy buzzing that fills the air somewhat sweetly (if you don't think about the fuzzy wood bees that are making that particular music).

 "All good things come to those who wait."  "Patience is a virtue." "To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven."   "Turn, turn, turn."...and so on...

  Basically, I'm saying...it IS summer...officially SUMMER.  The summer solstice happened three days ago...soooo-- no take backs! 

  Cool ideas- not original...but fun:  ride bikes, swim in the lake or ocean (if desperate- puddles do count) , catch fireflies, roast marshmallows, build s'mores, go camping, tube a river, lay on the grass and point out bunnies and angels in the clouds (if desperate- anything can look like a rhino), eat a popsicle, have a campfire, teach a child a campfire song, catch a bull-frog or hand that task to a teen-age boy or brave four-year old girl, roll down a grassy hill, star gaze, find beach glass, go fishing, [insert your ideas here].

  Whatever you do to celebrate summer- do it with GUSTO and relish the moment!

  For...   “It was June, and the world smelled of roses. The sunshine was like powdered gold over the grassy hillside.” ― Maud Hart Lovelace, “Some of the best memories are made in flip flops.” ― Kellie Elmore,  “And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.” ― F. Scott Fitzgerald


 

 

Into the wee hours of the night...

  Crickets chirping, fireflies floating, full moons hanging low over silhouetted trees, bonfires, campfires, marshmallows on fire- (yup...like mine black), these are just some of the treasures of a summer night.

  This summer has seen my eldest son teaching himself to play the guitar (acoustic- but just bought an electric...with an amp).  I have no complaints there- actually it's AWESOME to have music permeating the house, porch, and even the side yard on occasion.  And what's really a bonus is that he's very good;)  And I don't think that's just the "Mama Love" talkin'.

  Yesterday, my son revealed the result of a bunch of wadded up paper balls littering his bedroom floor- his first COMPOSITION (that was actually written out and planned.)  I loved it!!  I had seen his sample titles and knew he was going for a "Summer" kind of feel...so I, being the good mother and lover of words, immediately began to string a few lines together.  I was halfway through my second rendition, trying to demonstrate how cool it was to sing about our recent vacation to Cook Forest, when he said, "Mom, don't waste your breath.  I'm not trying to be mean but have you noticed most of your songs are for old people.  They kinda sound like John Denver."  Well, he couldn't have paid me a better compliment.  "John Denver is a total inspiration to me!" I responded, thrilled he had picked up a similar vibe between Mr. D and me.  "Yeah, Mom- uh, I know- that's what I mean."

  Whatever... He thinks I write like John Denver!! 

  Ok, I am well aware the general population won't admit their absolute respect and admiration for Mr. Denver's lyrical genius- I can handle that.  I don't mind being brave in my proclamation that J.D. (God rest His soul) was AWESOME, uplifting, and created a peaceful haven that allowed the beauty of nature to inspire listeners.  And THAT my friends is the essence of simplicity: to experience beauty then write about it.  Let the music flow to give background to what inspired the words.  Or write words to express the beauty that flows out through the lilting chords- it's all good!

  Back to my opening paragraph about the crickets etc... the simple joys and sounds of summer have been a balm for my soul during my hiatus from this blog.  Sure there's the distinct chaotic "music" that echos from our windows letting the neighbors know summer is here--that music being the bellows resembling a tuba, followed by loud clashes that could nearly sound like cymbals...yes, my children are not in school.  Yet, all symphonies need their orchestra Maestro.  And that being me- I've decided to treat that position with prestige.  Time to plan trips to the local nature center, bike rides through the park, lounging at the pool, and watermelon feasts to treat the sweet tooth.  I've been reconnecting with what my family needs- FUN!  And even as I'm writing into the wee hours of the night here...with the hum of the dishwasher vying for a seat in the cricket symphony I'm reflecting on this recent evening of "Game Night".  Tonight we had Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, and Siblings gathered round our large, oval, oak table playing the new game, PIT,  discovered during our week in Cook Forest.  If you are fond of games I recommend you go online and order this now- seriously- it's addictive- BUT I wasn't singing about it in my son's song...even I have boundaries. 

So, let me know:
                      1. If you are a John Denver fan (openly or secretive)
                      2.  Have you ever played Pit--do you LOVE it?