Back in the sixties, kids went exploring as kind of a passage to imagination. At least to us it was exploring if we had not been there in the last twenty-four hours. Maybe kids today still go exploring in hidden places in Wetzel County. Or perhaps hand held games, motorized scooters and one hundred and fifty cable channels have replaced those searching walks for hidden places. I guess maybe we figured Indians and maybe Lewis Wetzel had walked barefoot in those secret hideaways we had found.

In those days the exploration party was made up of kids who lived on Circle Drive. Robin, my brother who I am sure Mom and Dad had just to keep track of me. My sister, Lynn, was just too little to be interested in searching the unknown. My three cousins lived next door who were like my brothers growing up. On the other side in the big blue house lived two neighbor girls who we loved to torment.

Now, like most kids we figured the youngest members were going to ruin all our fun. If we got the chance we would run off and leave them behind. No since in dragging little kids along that would start crying if a monster would jump out from behind a tree. This was especially true if we were going exploring in the land of Rock Run. It was deep in the woods far from civilization. We always knew there could be bears and wolves lurking around every tree and rock waiting for one of us to fall behind.

The springtime of the year was a great time to go on a trek. You could wade through the streams cold and clear, still running fast from the winter snows. Under rocks were spring lizards. Each one colored differently, from black with yellow spots to red with white spots. When you held them in your hand they were cold to the skin. But yet they would wiggle and squirm in your hand until you place them back on the ground.

We would climb around waterfalls and try and see what might be under the falls… was it a passage to a world yet undiscovered? Sit on moss covered rock that feels like velvet, soft and green. The woods were that special spring green that blankets the ground and trees. Even today it is hard to believe the gray color of winter can change into such lush green forest.

Springtime in Wetzel County was when wildflowers were everywhere you looked. Easter Lilies, Dutchman Breeches, Indian Paintbrushes and Johnny Jump-ups in blue, yellow and white. The bounty of flowers always gave us a chance to take a handful home to our Mom’s. No matter how dirty we got exploring, a handful of flowers would save the day.

Sometimes we found large stands of what we called, May Apple trolls. In those days our imaginations told us they looked like small creatures coming up from the ground with their two arms held up overhead trying to scare us away. We would find a stick and magically turn it into a sword and valiantly fend off their savage attack.

Sometimes we would just sit there in the quiet woods and listen to the waterfalls and the birds in the trees. Somehow it seemed we were in a secret place only kids could find. In the distance we would hear my Mom whistle, that was the signal that dinner was ready. Somehow Mom has called more kids home to eat that any dinner bell ever could.

Several years ago I wondered what had happened to our secret woods we had found so many years ago. On a warm day in June I decided to return to that place where we would let our imaginations run wild. As I walked down the path to start my adventure, I was quick to realize time and progress had been there before me. Some years back it looked as if the big dark woods of my youth had been turned into building materials for homes. Long gone were the Oaks that were green guardians of the quiet woods. No longer did the moss grow on the rocks along the streambed. The bright sun was too hot on the rocks for the soft green growth to survive. Weeds now grew tall where the spring flowers had dominated the hillsides. The quiet silence of the woods now had the sound of a weed-eater in the distance.

What of the May Apple trolls we vanquished so many years ago? They are no longer reaching up to welcome my return. They have long since gone on to other secret places and left me with only their memory. Perhaps somewhere tinted with soft green light filtered by the leaves of the tall oak trees is a warm, green hidden valley where some young explorers can find the joy and memories as we did so long ago as we look Through the Lens.

This Friday is Vietnam Veterans Day. My article was special for this week, unfortunately mechanical problems at the printer caused it to be delayed until next. Remember those who served.