Anyone else grow up roaming the countryside like this?

I grew up in the country. During the summertime, at weekends when my dad was off work, he’d chop wood to burn (to heat the house) throughout the winter.

I always wanted to be near him, so I’d get into the rusty pickup truck that smelled of smoke, sawdust and fuel fumes.. and he’d drive up into the forest.

He had thick gloves that he’d wear on his hands but I rarely helped with the wood hauling so I went bare handed. Leaves beneath my feet.. trees and slopes as far as you could see. A canyon named after my sister and another named after me.

I’d hunt for rotten wood lying on the ground and then carefully strip bits of it away. Rollie pollie bugs would try to run away but I’d catch them and watch them curl up into tight little balls before gently setting them back down on the rotted wood.

If I dug deep enough, sometimes, I’d find a salamander. I learned not to grab them by the tail after I was left with only a tail and no salamander one time. Apparently they can separate themselves from their tail and make off if they need to.

Up there on the hill beside our house is where we buried the dog I grew up with. A cross with her name engraved jutted out of the ground. Sometimes when I was hurting, I’d go up there to speak to her. Her grave was like a magnet to me when I needed a place to weep and vent.

When I got older, I took my horse out to explore those woods. You’ve never experienced silence like a forest midday. I used to ride bareback for the simple challenge of keeping in place whilst navigating the hills - I was braver than I ought to have been and one time I slid right off the back of my horse going up the incline on the canyon named after me. He just stood there with one judging eye peering back.

Nature is where I thrived. It called to me and I ventured out into it every single day. My sister and I would rally the neighbour kids to build forts, sneak past the territorial rooster who would latch on to your leg if he caught you…

One time, in a game of tag, I ran right over him because I was so caught up in the fun. Didn’t even see him there till he was on my leg, one claw dug into my jeans and no sign of letting go. They laughed for so long after watching me run along with him clung onto me in a pure rage.

Does anyone have vibrant memories from their childhood like this? Or can you relate in some way? I had such a sense of belonging back then.