What's Going On ...

   And then there's this other thing. 
   You're standing on a neatly kept grassy knoll. The sun is out, it's warm with a cool breeze that flips your collar up and carries the faintest smell of roses. In front of you is a gate - about four feet high. The paint is flaking and the latch shows some leak-through rust stains. At first glance you see nothing beyond the gate but unmowed grass, some tangled shrubery and wild honey suckle clinging to an old apple tree. 
   And then you realize that if you walk through that gate you'll see a vineyard to your right. The rows are neat and combed. The vines are sturdy and green and clusters of green-to-purple grapes bubble up among the leaves. To your left there is an apple orchard. Not a big one - maybe thirty trees or so. Their rough branches have leafed out and the beginnings of tiny round apples can be seen through the thick mass of green.
  There is a cobbled-stone path stretching ahead of you and you know without thinking about it that it leads to a small shed. Behind the shed there is a stream. You can't hear it but you know it's there.

   This is weird. You shake your head. The unkept, tangled mass of grasses and shrubbery stretches ahead. The gate is still closed. 
  
   Why am I imagining all this stuff? You wonder. Do I remember this place as it was along, long time ago? Impossible! I've never been here before ... I've never even been to Maine before. Did my parents bring me here as an infant? All these thoughts chase around your head and slam up against brick walls. You weren't  in this country as an infant and their first visit here came after you were married with two small children. Who were not inclined to be stuffed in a car and driven to Maine. And neither were you.

   Is this Deja Vu? No - it's not a flash of something, this is a 'viewing' of something you think you ought to remember. You know you've seen it before. You could walk through the gate... and see if you're right.

   Then someone's calling you back to the car - everyone's leaving. With one last look, you turn to leave. Puzzled, you walk away leaving the field behind - empty except for one lonely old apple tree that's smothered in honey-suckle now.

   What's going on ...