by Lisa Kates

Created on: March 06, 2008   Last Updated: July 17, 2009

My favorite childhood memory is of a babbling creek and its companion, a beautiful weeping willow tree.

The creek meandered through grasses and trees that grew behind my house. I was able to hop an old fence and have the privilege of exploring a clear water creek complete with tadpoles, minnows and frogs. There were also birds such as cardinals, red winged blackbirds and sparrows. Occasionally a neighborhood dog would come romping through.

Next to the creek stood a magnificent, very old weeping willow tree. The languid green branches swept the grassy banks and stippled the creek's surface . The stately weeping willow tree was my childhood touchstone and I was so happy when I could take a bucket and kneel by the water catching tiny tadpoles. The grand weeping willow tree stood guard, as though watching over me, the creek and everything else that lived in this little oasis. I took the creek and the tree for granted, not realizing it was unusual to have a small nature reserve in the midst of an urban neighborhood.

The creek was a narrowed continuation of a much larger river that wound through the city. The municipality would cut the grass by the side of the creek and make sure there were no obstructions. Aside from that the creek was left on its own to wander at will, making a home for small fish, snails and toads. The other amazing thing about this creek was that no one littered. There were no thrown pop cans, coffee cups or potato chip bags strewn in the creek or alongside it. Again, I took all of that for granted, not knowing how polluted and littered our cities would become. This was about 40 years ago long before global warming and toxic poisons became part of our modern lexicon.

The creek was just a part of my life and my neighbor's lives. I treasured the running water and loved hearing it trickle over the rocks and pebbles. I remember the sun dappling the water's surface between the branches of the willow tree and how fascinated I was with the pattern that the sun's rays made as it flirted with the nodding leaves. I once caught a huge frog in the creek and took it home to show my mother. She was quite amazed that such a big frog existed and then she made me put the frog back into the water. She always told me to be careful not to fall into the creek but really it was so shallow nothing would have happened had I fallen in. When my mother was outside with me I would take off my sandals and wade into the creek. It was always cool, never cold, because

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