I realized today that it had been awhile since I posted one of these up so I thought I’d do one today. And this is one about water. When I was a kid there was this spring water hole that we’d get our water from every day. It was a walk from our house and if my little feet walked it, it would take me eleven or twelve minutes of my time. I remember the path we used to take to get there. It was wedged perfectly onto the ground. I never used to think of how long it took to make the path, I just knew it was there. Of course, the other thing that never crossed my mind is that the path had been there even when I was about four years old. So it was wedged pretty good. Of course, today if I walked it, I would not find it because no one has walked that path for over twenty years. And along the path were these tall pine trees and evergreens on both sides. When we were kids we’d sometimes climb the evergreens and slide down them in the winter. Don’t ask how? I just know we did it. But anyway, I’m get side tracked. So at the end of the path was the main road that was always dusty because it was a gravel road and there were many trucks and other large vehicles that used it. And on the other side of the road with a few extra steps was another path into a leafy and green area. The trees, branches and leaves were thick as you entered the sacred spring water area. The path was about twelve to fifteen feet from the road. And there hidden next to a small hill to the right and the sound of a running creek to the left was the spring water hole. It was created by someone and you could tell because it had rocks along side of the well. And I remember that there was always a large white cloth hanging or one was brought along to be used as a filter as you poured the water into your pail. A large dipper was always brought along because you needed it. And of course, when I went along for the walk, I always loved when I’d get a few drinks for the well (from the filtered pail, of course!) My father used to take me when I asked to take the trip with him. Not a lot used to cross my mind back then about who made the well or how long it was there? I was just glad that it was. All around the spring water hole grew green moss everywhere. I love how it used to feel like a different realm when you walked in from the road. It just looked different and the only thing that would remind you of where you were is the traffic that would pass by that would blow dust everywhere. The path went far beyond the spring water hole, the path led to a large gravel pit that was about a twenty-minute walk from the spring water hole. And again, it was a perfectly wedge path. My guess now is that it was used for hunting purposes for my family to get from one spot to another. But I loved the paths that I use to run on as a kid. Today, they say so much but when I was a kid I never thought of anything of it. It was just a path. It’s funny how time changes things and puts things into perspective for us as we age. It’s very interesting. I never used to think about how much my father or my uncle knew about the bush and living and surviving in it. There’s a part of me that wishes I could have known but then again, I’m fairly certain that the knowledge would come to me if I really needed it. Intuition has a way of guiding us more than we know. I thought of the spring water hole because today we don’t live like this anymore, no one in my home community does. We all have running water. I still remember the taste of the clean, fresh, cold water as I drank it. I haven’t tasted water like that in so long. I hope to one day see another spring water hole again, some day. Thanks for reading.