I have been to Walden many times. We have hiked all the trails, swam in the pond and read all the books. No matter. It never gets old and we never get tired. That's because we can reach back to the 1840's just as easily as we can reach forward into the future. Here's why: time moves differently in this place. Everywhere we look we can see our children. In 1985 my son Pat celebrated his first birthday there. I the early '90's Sean played a tom tom when we paddled our canoe along the Concord river. We imagined Thoreau playing his flute, Hawthorne sitting on his porch at the Manse or Emerson writing his essay Nature in his book lined study. Walden is the land of ideas that seem to bubble out of the pond like a pack of minnows swimming toward the sun.
This year, Nora finally got to visit the Alcott house, a place where women have always been recognized and respected. I enjoyed watching her absorb the atmosphere as well as remembering reading Little Women with her many years ago. Time doesn't matter at Walden. This is a place of love.
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