~Saw this one from way back and felt like putting it out here again.~
It doesn't happen very often these days, but lately (especially in the summer) I've been homesick for my old stomping ground. The place of my youth was wild in nature and people.
It was a small town with miles of thick Florida woods and swamps. There were alligators, snakes, mosquitoes, blackberry bushes and dragon flies the size of my hand. Thick clumps of Spanish moss draped across the greenish limbs of massive 600 year old oak trees. In the early evening, fireflies would put on a spectacular show of blinking constellations. After hot days, heat lightening (lightening but without any thunder) would light up the night. It was an enormous flash of greenish light that would sear the image of whatever you were looking at into your eyes. It would take a moment for your eyes to adjust back to the dark when, another flash would blanket the area, again stamping an eerie motionless image of the back yard in your mind.
The people of this town were reflected the landscape. There were long haired hippies that would be happy to include me in their music circle and let me sing along. I would ride over to the university and enjoy the Hari Krishnas dancing on the plaza and laugh at the students streaking down University avenue. There was Wild Man Paul who I loved a million times over and from the eyes of a child, never realized he was injured.
I don’t want to go back though. It’s different. The wildness is gone, and in its place is subdivisions. I guess the same can be said for me.