I remember this place, from my childhood, this long road under old great trees. My sister and I would run there, in and out of the trees, picking up acorns, and berries, and leaves of scarlet and gold. My mother and her sister would gather pecans on the nearby farm. Thanksgiving would be here soon, and pecans were needed for pies, cakes, and other southern staples of the season.
I dreamed of this place last night, and Judy, and Mama, and Aunt Elsie. I don't know what took me back there. But for a time, I was there again, under the old great trees.
"I remember more dearly autumn afternoons in bottoms that lay intensely silent under old great trees." C.S. Lewis