I grew up in what was, and still is, commonly referred to as “the boonies.”
My family and I lived in a small farming community on five acres of land. Now, for someone like my husband, raised in the city and used to all the noises and bustle of cars and people, where I lived as a child was fairly remote. We did have neighbors within shouting distance, if you had a really loud voice. I loved it. Traipsing through back fields and woody forests was part of my childhood.
Despite the remote location and scarcity of houses on our country road, I was lucky enough to have as neighbors two sisters roughly the same age as me. The three of us had wonderful times together and many adventures.
The property upon which my friend’s house was situated was all rolling hills, thick with brush and trees. My friends and I could be found every afternoon, playing “out back”. Winter usually found us clambering about in thick, one-piece snowsuits tucked inside clunky insulated boots nearly every day. There was one reason in particular we hiked through thigh-deep drifts into the woods so often.
Sledding!
If you’ve never had experienced the joy of careening down the side of a snow covered hill, frigid wind whipping snow flakes into your face, you’ve truly missed an experience. As soon as a good thick snow covering blanketed the ground my two friends and I would struggle into our winter gear. Stomping in heavy boots a good long trek until we found the one perfect spot for our preferred winter-time activity.
Nestled in the trees, away from the prying eyes of older siblings or parents, was a particular set of hills which formed a ring around a small flat valley. One in particular was a favorite place to spend an afternoon hurtling ourselves on thin sheets of plastic with only a slender rope to steer by.
We called this particular hill ... “Suicide Mountain.”
Keep in mind, we were ages eight, six, and five ... perspective is everything. However, there can be no arguing it was the fastest hill for sledding at our disposal. What made this particular hill even better was the naturally occurring grove of trees at the very top, which made a perfect starting gate for any erstwhile sledder. Better than any starting gate an international Olympic committee could provide for its athletes.
