The Creek Behind My House

I remember those quiet summer weekend afternoons with nothing to do when I was young. I used to head down to the end of my backyard, climb over the chain-link fence, and make my solitary journey through the bush to the little creek, my private sanctuary. I’d take off my sandals and put my feet and hands in the cool water, watching it ripple and flow gently around them. The water caught little pebbles on its way and deposited them on top of the little clay hills it had already assembled on its banks.

With my cheek resting on my knee, I imagined that the pebbles on the mounds were little rooftops in a fairy kingdom: all different colored rooftops, red, brown, some clay-colored, some sandstone. I observed the fairies’ busy lives, taking care of the creek and the surrounding bush, and tending to the needs of their miniature families under their rooftops. I wanted them to be real.

I imagined their clothes and gave some of them wings and some not. I saw them taking care of nature and knowing precisely what was needed. The little children fairies would get into mischief and play in the creek as they made gum tree leaves into miniature boats, never going too far away from their magical kingdom. I wondered if they had to be fearful of yabbies, snakes, and spiders, or whether they all had an understanding not to harm each other.

When I grew weary in the afternoon heat, I would lie back on the bush floor, checking for random spiders and snakes nearby. I’d contemplate the clear blue sky through the canopy of tall eucalyptus trees. Sometimes, there would be a breeze in the tops of the trees, creating a symphony. Sometimes, puffs of clouds wafted by. I would stay there in this little portion of heaven until I sensed it was time for dinner and I needed to be home.

Back then, I didn’t have an iPhone or a camera, and even if I had taken a photo of those pebbles by the creek and the sky through the trees, it would never be the same as the imprint in my memory. The shapes of the clay pillars, the colors of each lovely pebble, the balmy fragrance of the bush, the symphony in the breeze, and the cool, fresh water in the creek. Yes, I remember fondly my afternoons in the bush in the long, hot Australian summers.

I would hope that children nowadays would be able to have times like this to relax, let go, and experience the wonder of nature. I feel so lucky to have had the bushland behind my yard where I could explore, sometimes by myself and sometimes with friends or my brother. It helped to save me when most of the time in my house it was not good.

It's essential that, as adults, we nourish the child within and take time to let go, relax, and fill up with the wonder of creation. To connect with something greater, more life-affirming than any stress we are currently going through.

If you need help to let go and gain freedom from stress, grief, anger, resentment, frustration, or worries. Please reach out. I'd love to help. Click the 20-minute complimentary consultation button below.

Gail Mae