Certainly no scars formed from the exposure. It was simply- a pleasant place… with its pretty grounds, and fun spring fairs when the azaleas bloomed. My camp-self became my favorite persona.Īs for the role of religion… We went to the white steepled Episcopalian church that provided a sort of social center for our village. We gained skills, we grew strong, we took to the wilderness in canoes– unafraid. Then there were my 8 week sessions away at Songadeewin – a girls’ summer camp in glorious northern Vermont. Somehow-that strong Adirondack beauty was being stored– all along– in my soul. Away from the heat, was our retreat home on the shores of Lake Placid– where we messed about with boats in pristine summer waters, and became happy skiers in those ever larger snows of yesteryear. My grandparents’ western farm allowed for summers on horseback and learning to run with the beautiful Irish Setters. Settings beyond ‘Pheasant Hill’ in Gladwyne were more gifts of my childhood. Ever since… it has been– ‘love me, love my dog’. That was when mutual trust with canines made all the difference. In spite of the veneer, the human players in my world were not always reliable. Thus, my beginner’s world view was formed by forests, fields, fur persons… and I have–in moving from place to place- ‘taken to the woods’ with critters.Īctually, my affinity to my animals was my mainstay. until ultimately heading back to the spacious, gracious fieldstone house in the white dogwood-ed meadow that was our home. We bicycled, swung from trees, forded every stream…. My parents gave me and my younger siblings such a setting we were then blessed with the benign neglect to run unleashed–just like the Springer Spaniels who were my close companions. In those days, Gladwyne was a tucked-away bucolic hamlet of stately homes amidst established azaleas, green space, ancient beech woods, pony trails. I smile now at the random circumstance of a silver spoon (silver skates, too) start… Gratitude surrounds my recollections…Īs with Brigadoon, I look through the mists of time to Gladwyne, PA in the 1950’s and early 60s. ![]() I was given the groundwork for choices that allowed me to become– even at a young age- who I wanted to be. Judy: Perpetually, I am appreciative of the cornucopia of my early years. With a nod to Isak Dinesen, UUFE’s Judy Hedges might begin her book, “I had a house on the coast of Maine.”įollow Judy as she migrates to Maine, rescues strays, transforms her lacrosse stick into a magic broom, and wanders and ponders the Five Big Questions.
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