The View From My Back Deck

I was going to write about the view from my bedroom window in Milton Daniel Hall, as it is a rather pretty view. I can see the sand volleyball courts and the recreation center, which are an especially enticing sight when the lights are on and the weather is warm. Alas, there is no sand-related frivolity occurring as it is currently below freezing for the third straight day. The snow blanketed campus and view from my bedroom window reminded me of home, of the view from my deck on a snow day reading the comics and drinking hot chocolate in my pajamas. It's a welcome escape as the stress of my first finals week of college is fast approaching and fell as if I am, in the words of the illustrious Mason Richards, "Woefully unprepared." If anyone feels like taking a mental vacation to a snowy Nebraska suburb here's your ticket:

If someone actually reads this, prints this out, clips the ticket, and brings it to me I will hide you in my luggage and you can actually fly home with me to Nebraska. (I guarantee you don't want to, however.)
Anyway, if you were to come to the frigid wasteland that is Nebraska, and came with me to my house you would undoubtedly look out towards the clearing behind my house from my deck because you will have read this blog post and the upcoming description of said clearing.
When you look out from my back deck, just behind our fenced backyard is an almost rectangular patch of grass. It is almost the width of a football field going east to west. (viewing direction will be oriented towards the west) The patch is bounded on the west side by some native grass that leads to a small creek, or as my Iowan parents say, "crick." This native grass stretches the length of the patch and bottlenecks it at both ends, leaving a narrow path to walk between the insect-filled, sure-to-make-you-itchy native grass and the fences of our neighbors on either side. The clearing is dotted like a Seurat painting with saplings, which provide interesting obstacles for pickup football games. Beyond the native grass and creek there is a magnificent sprawl of hundreds of 50+ foot tall trees. On lazy summer afternoons our family will congregate on the deck to bask in the sun and read. When we force ourselves from our thrilling novels and intriguing exposés to eat we often attempt to find forms within the uppermost branches of a tree. We've seen motorcyclists, stars, hearts, and even a pair of ghosts. For me, however there are things I see in those trees that my family doesn't. I see the remnants of makeshift bridges and forts that my friends and I spent countless summer days laboring over and enjoying. I see the hard to find mulberry trees that provided us sustenance when we were too lazy to head back to our homes. I see games of hide and seek and miniature camping trips. I hear the ghost stories and fables of a forest hermit we would tell each other. I hear our mothers calling us home when it was time to go to bed and dream of the adventures of the next day.
When the chill of winter comes and snow provides our little forest a blanket, the lush green forest is replaced by a hauntingly beautiful gray skeleton in a lovely white gown. The memories I see in my mind's eye change with the season. I see tennis-shoe speed skating contests on the frozen creek and I feel the sudden chill run up my leg from the time the ice was too thin and I was the first to tenderly step upon it.
When the sun sets behind the trees it sets them ablaze in thrilling hues of orange and purple, and when the lights of the day are put out the stars provide a beautiful backdrop to the cosmic dance of the swaying limbs.
The lucky person who comes home in my suitcase will undoubtedly see a quaintly picturesque natural area behind my house and that will be enough for them, but when I look out my back window or sit out on the deck gazing at the trees I see so much more. I see adventure, frivolity, and friendship. I see a part of my childhood, some of my fondest memories from growing up. There are countless things hiding in my little forest, can you find any more of them?