The weather is so beautiful and mild that I decided to eat my lunch on the porch today. Just outside the porch, the ornamental plum is beginning to open its pink blossoms. I can hear insects buzzing everywhere and birds calling in the trees. It is quiet and peaceful and strongly spring!
A memory came to mind of a similar, pretty day fifty-five or sixty years ago. Winters were so long where I grew up that we would revel in those first days of spring. We explored farther, ran harder, and generally leapt with joyful exuberance in those early spring days.
Our little Woodlawn Avenue was cut right smack into the middle of a corn field on May's land, between two other farms. Graham's farm, May's farm, and Morford's farm all sat in a row of acreage on Third Avenue Extension. Our street was hemmed in with horses on the May's side, cows on the Morford's side, and woods and streams at the far end where the pavement dwindled into a tractor path at the dead end. The possibilities for childhood exploration were endless. We stayed closer to home in the summer and winter with plenty to do on our own street. But, spring and fall put into us the wanderlust.
On one such mild spring day we kids decided a picnic was just the thing. We ran to our respective homes and asked our mothers to make us a picnic lunch. I still remember that mine was a tuna fish sandwich. We may have brown-bagged it or used our school lunchboxes and thermoses, I do not recall how we carried our lunches but we did not own backpacks in those days. We decided that Morford's Hill was to be our picnic destination. To get to the hill, we had to crawl under Morford's electric fence and across the field where their bull lived. It was a bit of excitement to first get under the fence without touching it and then across the field without the bull noticing. I knew the fence hurt because one time I hit it with the back of my neck and got shocked. I did not cry but it smarted. We flattened ourselves as close to the earth as we could in order to snake under that low wire. Usually one of us would keep an eye on the bull and tell the others when to run. The lookout job was usually given to an older cousin while we littler ones made the dash. We never did have an issue with the bull but that did not keep the fear of it out of us.
Once atop Morford's hill, we found a good, grassy spot and sat down to eat. The hill gave us a birds eye view of our little street down below. I pictured my mother way down there in our house. I saw the trees and yards laid out from a different perspective than when we were there down in it. If we raised our gaze above our street's tree line, toward the west, we could see the top of the Capital building in Albany, poking up above the skyline. At that time, the Capital was the tallest building in Albany. (It would later be dwarfed by the South Mall buildings which stood much taller and were built in the 1970's). I did not like my tuna fish sandwich that day. I remember it tasted too fishy and it was a slight disappointment on an otherwise perfect expedition and picnic. I hope there was a cookie or something to compensate for it but I do not recall. I also do not recall what we talked about while we picnicked. My guess is that we were making plans for what to do next on that glorious day.
Life was so simple then. Children had nothing to do but play to the limits of their imaginations. We played outside from sunup to sundown and went in only for meals or bedtime. So much has changed. Morford's Hill is gone as well as the entire farm. The hill was blasted down flat and paved over with the installation of Interstate 90. Cars and trucks flow at breakneck speed twenty four hours a day over our picnic spot. Graham's Farm and hill was plowed down and a townhouse community built on its acreage.
I live in a new peaceful place now, imagining picnics of long ago. I am glad for the quiet and the ushering of contemplation and memores it allows. In my memory, Morford's Hill will always be there to visit any time I like with a picnic. Today's visit was with a cheese sandwich rather than tuna fish and I remember those cousins and childhood friends at the picnic who were my entire world at one time. It is time to come out of my reverie although I do think I feel the need for an expedition coming on.
