In 2017, Cache Owner Charlie Hunters turns up the volume on Old Macdonald’s Farm. True bliss for a six-year-old playing hide-and-seek.
Heading north, our geo-map directs us to Stratford Ecological Center, just south of Delaware. The parking lot is already buzzing with muggles, big and small.
Left with 236 acres of land when her grandfather suddenly falls ill, Gale Warner’s burning desire is to create a farm and nature sanctuary. Her first hire is an agricultural student. We think Old Macdonald would approve.
Interns, volunteers, staff, and a new executive director join the farmer over the next 33 years to create the sounds of clucking, mooing, baaing, and crowing, now calling us. The guards scrutinize the latest intruders from their perches in the tree.
A rush of warmth and spring’s lush early risers greet us as we roll open the greenhouse door. A chorus of kale, spinach, broccoli, celery, cilantro, cabbage, and even miner’s lettuce, a staple for those brave souls long ago, sings forth every shade of green imaginable.
The farm’s newest member is excited for company, not yet aware that chickens rule. The pecking order requires a strict examination and admittance policy.
Conferring among themselves, the guards come down to meet us, still carrying that skeptical look.
The successful births of over 20 lambs this spring gives testament to the farmer’s unending dedication and commitment to the support of sustainable agriculture. Over the past several years, he receives two awards for his outstanding care and performance.
15-year-old Rafiki holds the story of a past visit from the governor and other persons of some importance. Today the sentinel still stands. Who else is going to keep these innocent faces in line?
The goats have settled down for their second chew and our cache is calling. We head for the woods, leaving the inviting warmth and companionship of Four-leggeds and sweet-smelling hay behind.
If all goes well, we will be returning shortly. . . just watch for mud…flooding…dive-bombing birds…oh and hopefully no quicksand. . .
One last on-looker bids us farewell, or is that a smirk . . .
An unexpected treasure bursts into color before our eyes as we strike out on the well-worn geo-trail. A hidden hill blanketed with emerald green whispers softly in the breeze, showcasing wonder for the adventurous, wandering soul.
Tiptoeing out of their winter cocoons, each bud contains a power house ready to unfurl into a pulsing leaf, collecting sunlight and energy for a waiting planet.
A heart-shaped opening ahead beckons, over twisted tales of forest tumult. From the unknown and unsung locations of our Cache Nation hero-owners comes a message of fun and fellowship.
The CO shares this treasured spot as the mishap of his first geocaching adventure, turning up empty handed but still undaunted. After seven years of experience in the field, he returns to install version 2.0, with hopes of sharing the joy with others. Now the cache passes to a new adopter and 3.0.
Our six-year-old is having a difficult childhood. The container has been cleaned, cracked, repaired, cracked again, and most recently encased in plastic with hopes of housing a dry log inside. Like the disheveled mayhem of leaves once brilliantly green, then orange, now tangled in a mass of new forest life, the geo-galaxy begins a new season of soul food.
the old and new
the brown and green
cachers with 10,000 finds and cachers with 12
footsteps left behind, watched by invisible creature eyes
logs left on the forest floor
in a woven internet of nondigital, nonpixelated, noncellular connectivity
OH Love Of Geocaching 