When we write about adventure,
we begin to retrace our muddy childhood footprints.
We recollect that with you, it was always a good day
Wearing Wellington boots,
Carefully choosing our many pastimes outdoors,
Shrouded by the grandness of your garden,
How much we appreciated the welcome & peace that your village always gave to us.
We were the children who were always well-acquainted with exploration.
We always respected your wisdom.
We journeyed ahead in childhood, guided by the calming nature of any stream.
And the villagers and their children we came to meet became as familiar as the neighbours from the towns we called our other home.
And there are many memories.
The memories are of a village green where we shared our storybooks.
I found my creativity in the landscapes outside your door.
I filled my school sketchbooks with views & an understanding of the natural world.
I choose the countryside that you introduced to us anytime I need to reacquaint myself with my childhood self.
Thank you, Granddad George.