If you'd rather place an order by talking to one of our cheerful order desk clerks, please call 1-888-232-4444 (USA and Canada only) or 250-383-6864. From Europe, ring our UK order desk clerk at local rate number 0845 230 9601 (UK only) or 44 (0)1865 722 113.

Back Home in Timber Lane

by Patricia Dickinson Bowers

180 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #02-0550; ISBN 1-55369-737-5; US$20.50, C$24.00, EUR16.50, £12.00

City dudes uproot from the big city to enjoy the multitude of adventures amongst eighty thousand trees in a beautiful secluded timber.

Read more!

About the book      About the author      Sample excerpts or Table of Contents      Catalogue info

About the Book Back Home in Timber Lane is a narration of the everyday and unusual experiences that occurred during the author's seventeen years living in Timber Lane. "What challenges we faced leaving the city life behind and moving to a beautiful virgin timbered area with eighty thousand trees. It all began with remodeling and modernizing a little two-bedroom house, changing a cow path into a solid gravel roadbed and rebuilding weather-beaten fences that encompassed our twenty acres." "During our timber existence many sad and happy experiences occurred, the disheartening disappearance of a Boy Scout from his campsite to our ultimate dream, building a new home."

---

About the Author Patricia Dickinson Bowers was born and lived most of her life in Iowa. She attended Westmar College in LeMars, Iowa and after several years of secretarial employment, she married her high school sweetheart, Bernie, upon his return from three years enlistment in the navy. Most of her married life was spent in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, resuming her secretarial skills and raising a son, David and a daughter, Sharon. After the children had left the proverbial nest, a decision was made to uproot the big city life and move to a beautiful timbered area. Patricia had always enjoyed writing. Living amongst eighty thousand trees inspired her to write of the everyday and unusual experiences that occurred during her seventeen years at Timber Lane.

---

Sample Excerpts or Table of Contents

From Chapter 3

In just a matter of weeks, we were summoned by our realtor's call, "I think I have something that might be of interest to you, in the woods." How exciting! An appointment was set up and we were off with the realtor to view this new potential. We drove outside the Cedar Rapids City limits north to a little community known as Toddville. I called it Tooterville since it was a small unincorporated village with a main street consisting of a post office, two churches, and a grade school. Later, we often discussed it would be a venture to open a small grocery store in that little community for residents, since they had to travel approximately seven miles to Cedar Rapids for their weekly supplies and groceries. We passed through Toddville and traveled approximately five miles on a gravel road through hilly farmlands, small acreages, and a close knit bedroom community for commuters who took refuge in quiet country living. As we traveled along, we came to a fox farm that the realtor mentioned was very controversial between the animal activists and the local gentry. Riding along to our destination we encountered many hills and curves, when suddenly we realized we were definitely in a strange place and we wondered what in the world we were doing there. Anticipation grew and so did the queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

At last, we turned off the main unpaved road onto a smaller and narrower gravel road. One quarter of a mile brought us abruptly to what appeared to be a farmstead with adjacent buildings. We had only to view this homestead to know someone inside it really was in love with tractors. Bob and Gerry were the occupants and at this point in time we didn't realize they would be our closest neighbors. Across from this farmhouse was a very small cow path like road which led up a hill and into a timber. We first negotiated an old broken down wooden gate that was held together in an almost upright position by one wire twisted around a rotten pole and another wire on the opposite side in the same manner. The gate had to be dragged across the ground when opened. As we drove up this narrow path with our realtor, it became evident that we were entering another property owner's timber and we were even more aware that we were unable to drive further for fear of "sticking" the car in the mud. It was a light rainy day and the realtor suggested it might be in our best interest to walk the rest of the way, so we proceeded to leave our vehicle behind, slipped on our boots, and started the walk in the rain toward our destination. After challenging the very steep winding hill, we came to a ridge when immediately I fell in love with the gorgeous view overlooking the great vastness of the Morris timber. Even in the rain it was a breathtaking sight to see so many trees and the beautiful terrain of the land. An elderly neighbor, Morris, who owned this twenty acre section lived about a mile from his timber and grazed his cattle during the summer months. Our next encounter was with a rickety old cattle gate. It consisted of two poles with wire stretched between them and we had to lift out one pole from both the upper and lower wire loops in order to move it to one side and lay it on the ground. That old gate and the presence of numerous assorted sizes of cow pies gave us an indication there were definitely cattle grazing in this vast timber. After passing through this cattle gate, we were alerted by the realtor that we were walking on Metro Kiwanis property, twenty some acres of it. The Kiwanis members purchased these twenty acres for the benefit of the Boy Scouts in Linn County so they could spend weekends camping and enjoying various activities in the timber. More beautiful trees welcomed us and all along the walkway there was very dense underbrush that gave us a feeling of being in an enchanted forest. Craft lovers would have gasped in amazement at the quantity of grapevine ivy hanging from tree to tree. We continued on our long walk down this hill and then again up another until we came to a fork in the road. To the left led directly to a small clearing which undoubtedly was used for camping purposes by the Boy Scouts who paid regular visits to the Kiwanis area. We made a quick turn to the right and we reached our destination. There, before our very eyes was another battered white gate with an old unstable fence line extending from it down ravines on both sides. This was it! This was the twenty acres for sale.

In astonishment we stood frozen while viewing the long narrow makeshift road, leading somewhere unknown, that gave us a clear indication of a beautiful wonderland. On either side of the road were very deep ravines and steep hills, with millions of trees of every description. The not so established road ran in front of a little old green house and on past a ravine that was completely filled with at least a fifty year accumulation of cans, bottles, pieces of rusty iron, parts of machinery; if you could name it, it was all there. Just across stood one of two decrepit structures, a pole type shed with a tin roof, which amazingly was still standing. It had a dirt floor with a big hole alongside the wall that indicated a groundhog might have taken up housekeeping there. The second structure contained a half-moon on the door with a two-holer inside. Immediately my mind went to thoughts of indoor plumbing. It had the distinct honor of sitting in a field of mushrooms, beautiful pure white ones that I had never seen before.

We continued on the cow path and there stood in all its stately manner, an old antique F-12 Farmall tractor, displaying its rust from years of intense service. Its sunken tires had been sitting for many seasons burrowing into the soft leaf earth. I'm sure Bernie was contemplating how in the world he would ever use it, and further, if it could ever run again to resume its appointed tasks in this timbered wonderland.

The cow path continued on to the other side of the timber and stopped at a huge flat open area that we surmised was used as a vegetable garden by the owners. Remnants of asparagus and rhubarb plants were visible, but weeds had gained control from lack of care. I'm sure we were both aware that this would make a wonderful garden, with its huge open space, attracting the sun and rain to fulfill their duties.

Bernie and I stood in awe at the beautiful landscape all around us, of course forsaking the rubbish packed ravine, the half-moon outhouse, the groundhog infested pole shed, the old rusty tractor, and the half starved deserted garden. Looking down into the ravines and scanning the hillsides, we instantly were sure we wanted to walk the fence lines to see what twenty acres offered us. The quietness was breathtaking and as we scoured this terrain, our eyes saw many squirrels scampering for nuts, birds flitting from tree to tree, fallen logs, mayapples, wild fern, remains of a horrendous crop of skunk cabbages, broken down fences and a timber floor covered with layer upon layer of dead leaves. Instantly the smell of mushrooms permeated our noses and we realized this truly was a "virgin timber," that to us, seemed comparable to a never-never land. We had fallen in love!

---

Catalogue Information

---