The children skipped ahead a few paces, stopping often to examine the rocks or pick wildflowers growing on the side of the road. It was a treat for them to be outside after dinnertime. They took their time exploring the trees and counting the deer that dashed across nearby meadows.
Old Man Gibson's hunting dogs barked and ran up to sniff the children but quickly backed off at his whistle that cut through the thick air. A moving van was in the driveway of the two story yellow house with white trim. Such a shame that the house never saw a family grow. No one ever stayed there more than 3 years.
That's the way it was around here. Locals lived quiet, content lives, retiring in the same house that had welcomed their babies home from the hospital. They married their high school sweethearts and worked alongside their childhood friends. Fresh faces would occasionally burst into town but would soon fade into the willowy landscape. Newcomers would bounce around to find their niche in a stone society just to be drawn back to the bright lights of the city. No hard feelings, it was just the way things were.
But the trails weaving through the forested land welcomed them all, guiding them through a natural wonderland. The peace and tranquility offered at creek beds could be more majestic than anything man made in the city. Children would splash around in the shallow pools and blankets would be spread under old hickory trees. Quiet evenings could woo young lovers to the water's edge to watch the sunsets fill the sky with brilliant shades of pink and orange. Nature has always had a way of highlighting simple pleasures in life.
