Exceptional a flash fiction americana by judester Sudden Flash Fiction contest entry

Anna whistled for her dogs and entered the pine forest. The scent of the forest was sweet and alive with birds and woodland critters.Raising her face to the sun, she breathed deep a few times and gave a silent thanks for this moment in time. The sun, the breeze and the sounds of the forest brought a smile to her face and a peace to her heart. Her dog came and sat quietly beside her She walked past the antique wooden bee houses that were discarded by the side of the road last summer.  After sanding and painting  them in ice cream colors, she had set them in the middle of a colorful wildflower garden filled with butterflies and bees. The worn clay bird bath beneath the trees always had a few happy birds in it, taking a dip. She continued through the woods and came upon her "campsite."   A perfectly good canvas tent was destined for the dump until she brought it home and set it up on a low wood platform. Charred stones set in a bonfire circle and a blue hammock created an inviting spot for nature lovers. Two red Adirondack chairs were set on a small patch of grass beside the horseshoe pitch. These were her "stargazing" chairs for those warm summer nights. Just beyond was the strand of maples. She followed her dogs along the dirt path. Silver maple buckets retrieved from her neighbor's trash were fixed to the trees and caught the morning sunlight. It looked like an old fashioned maple syrup farm. In the autumn, the leaves of these trees turned into a beautiful canopy of copper and crimson above the replica of a tiny sugar shack Anna had constructed one weekend from old barnboard.   She walked along the bedrock ridge where the view of the mountain was framed by fragrant cedar trees There she had set up four antique wooden chairs from the original chairlift, thrown out when the local ski hill renovated their operation.The wood was rubbed smooth from decades of skiiers getting off and on. Walking down the hill, she came upon the peaceful forest pond with a rope swing and picnic table. The locally made whirl-a-gigs and windcatchers made a soft clattering sound spinning  in the summer breeze. An antique airstream reflecting the sun off the silver sides, was set up permanently beside the water. This was a bartered aquisition she had made with a local farmer. One week of helping him with his huge garden and the silver trailor was hers. She now used it as a unique guest house. Continuing  through the forest, the path led under  the old fashioned tree fort and rock garden filled with hummingbird feeders and gnomes.There was a little area she called rabbitville. All the boughs from the softwood trees she had trimmed, were laid into little humped lairs for the wild rabbits. The little hutches  would eventually decompose, but for a couple years, they made great little hovels. She came upon her favorite spot. Over the small stream that ran through the land, a miniature  covered bridge traversed the water and was painted in barnboard red. Copying the style of the antique covered bridges around Vermond, it was held together with dowels. She had even left out the center boards like the real ones in town, where the local kids from years ago jumped into the water on hot summer afternoons. Along the forest path, she passed her old fashioned outhouse which was a continuous project. It was a double seater and whenever she found an odd piece of americana art, she would hang it on the walls. Discarded windows were repurposed, installed  and provided  a beautiful wrap around view of the woods. The final stop of her little tour was her log cabin.The locals called it the Hansel and Gretel cottage because of the staggered shingle roof and whimsical red door. The  porch was made from the maple floor of an old coutry store. She ran inside to change before the guests arrived. The local film crew wanted to do a story on this forest museum and Anna wanted to serve them apple cider and cobbler made from the old heritage apple trees on her land. She had never meant to make a museum. The pieces all came into her path and she had just found the perfect spots to display these memories of a simpler time. A time of tire swing afternoons and evenings serenaded by crickets in the grass.   Author Notes I dedicate this story to Sanejane. Just a happy little story.

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