In my green memory bank, today I retrieved a moment long ago, with my parents, walking up a path, in the French Alps. The image is fuzzy, there are pine trees towering over us, and forming an imaginary kingdom. The damp earth is soft under my feet, and I take in the smell of possibility of mushrooms. Drunk from the mountain air, I feel happy, totally.
What is in your green memory bank? How many moments, stored away, and still potent with the intensity of childhood, can you go back to? And access the love you felt in the midst of nature.
La Marguerite 
That’s a present you offer us, the luxury of memory: no small gift! healthy holidays marguerite.
The woods of southwest France
are dark and denuded,
a chill wind sharpens our senses,
the path narrows ahead of us.
My father walks briskly and
gathers lichen from the oaks,
i hold the cloth bag to dry
the pale curls for his evening tisane.
And for a rare moment he and i are one.
One with nature, one with selves,
an incredible unity.
Merci Nadine. What a beautiful poem! Tender moment to hold in your green memory bank.