There they used to climb the hill
to escape their parents, and that was
a place of firsts.
First kisses.
First cigarettes.
First adventures.
If only all our hills were so full
of glorious promise.
.
.
.
Had a visit to the local museum with a class. We learned all sorts of tidbits!
Shawn L. Bird 
If it were – I’d search for hills to climb.
🙂
Mind you, I suppose mountain climbers feel this way. The euphoria of the climb. The fresh air. The view. I’ve heard in Scotland there’s something called “Munro Bagging” which is climbing Scottish hills/mountains. One counts each munro (hill/mountain) and keeps a tally for the year/life. Doesn’t appeal to me, but to each his own!
I think I could go for a munro or 12.
🙂
Local archives can be revealers of wry embarrassment.
lol
Yes. I’ve made some fascinating discoveries digging through old records! All those babies born a 6 or 7 months after a wedding… 😉
escaping parents I remember was fun, going home after wasn’t. I had a hill in times a past, a memory that still makes me smile. Nice one Thanks for jolting my memory.
My pleasure. 🙂
Thanks for coming by!