Home Again…..Memories of Yellow Creek

Every day, I thank the good Lord for bring us to this place.  Or, should I say, back to this place.  

In 2003, my husband, Don, and I made the decision to leave well-paying jobs in the Washington, DC area, vowing to do whatever it took to get ourselves out of the corporate rat race. At the time, we weren’t exactly sure where this choice would take us, but we were sure that we wanted a much simpler and quieter life, wherever that might be. The stress of city life was taking its toll and, thankfully, we were both in complete agreement that big changes had to be made.

Eventually, our journey brought us back to my hometown of Wetumpka, a small town that sits on the banks of the Coosa River in central Alabama. This area is extremely rich in Indian history. Translated, Wetumpka means “Tumbling Waters”. There, I spent endless summer days playing in the woods, fields, and pastures with my sister and three brothers. It was a wonderful time……..free to roam about as we pleased with no danger of harm coming to us. Every day, we would start out on great adventures right after breakfast and chores, usually coming inside only for a quick lunch before Mom called us back late that afternoon for supper and baths.

One of our favorite places was Yellow Creek which ran through the pasture of my Grandfather’s farm. There we would spend hours on end wading, catching minnows, seining for bass (which we lucked up on once in a while), or eating picnic lunches that Mom had packed for us. But the best place of all was as far back as you could go, through the pasture, over the hill with the big cedar tree (we all agreed it would make a perfect Christmas tree someday) and down the other side of the hill to where giant oak trees lined the banks of Yellow Creek and the water ran a little deeper…….perfect for cooling off on hot summer days.

Our greatest discovery was the old oak tree where my father and uncles had all carved their names when they were boys. It gave us a great sense of family history in that place, knowing that they had once roamed the very same woods and creek bank that we loved so much, and where our great adventures were probably very much like their own had been many years ago. Of course, we all had to carve our names on the tree, too, so that the family history might carry on, and with the hope that our children would, someday, make the same great discovery as we had.

Through time and circumstance, Don and I now own the 12 acres surrounding that favorite place from my childhood, and our home overlooks the giant oak trees that line the banks of Yellow Creek. It has become our refuge…..the provider of our “simpler, quieter” life. I am constantly amazed that we should be fortunate enough to call this place our own, never dreaming as a child that such a thing could happen. We call it Yellow Creek Farm for so many more reasons than the obvious. Memories abound here, and time moves slowly.  Now instead of fighting traffic and meeting deadlines, my days are busy with such things as picking blackberries and making jam, freezing fresh peas and butterbeans from the garden that we share with my Mom and Dad, cooking for family get-togethers, and taking care of our 12 cats and two dogs, just to name a few.

These are all things I would never have dreamed of doing or, much less, having the time for in that other life which now seems so long ago. Oh yes, and there’s the baby bull that I’ve been bottle feeding for the past several months who thinks I’m his mother. He has taken up residence in our back yard, but that’s a story for another time.

Don and I recently took a walk down to Yellow Creek. He wanted to see the carvings on the tree. We found that the bark of the old oak had long since healed itself, covering up our family history. I know it is still there though, underneath, and I have a memory of long ago when five children made a wonderful discovery…….and made that old oak tree their own.

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