Friday, August 15, 2014

Response to Lorien's blogpost Where We Played, Where We Became.




Response to Lorien's blogpost Where We Played, Where We Became.

 Beautifully put. The magic is not just the space itself but somehow springs from the annals of childhood. In the adult world such adventures are illusory no matter the idealistic setting. From the "mother" point of view the demise of the backyard fields meant less mud, less dust, finally triumphing over the mice in the house and fewer weeds in the yard. Ah the practicality of adulthood! It's a great gift to be able to tap into childhood as an adult and recreate some of those moments. I don't think we ever quite get there but we long to. That is in part the joy of being a parent - having the opportunity to watch your offspring live those magic, creative and spontaneous adventures if you can jettison practicality enough to let it happen.

My "back fence" was Silver Creek just east of Snowflake Arizona where we tramped through mud and reeds to make Huckleberry Finn rafts and pole the river and my grandma's barn, granary, cellar etc. Ah, the romance of a barn swing coming off a large stack of hay bails. Now that I think of it we were often in trouble for climbing on those hay bails. It supposedly ruined the nutrition of the hay because it shook loose the alfalfa leaves loose. That very practical fact often pointed out to us by our older, approaching adulthood cousin didn't seem to deter us from slipping into the barn when no one was around and climbing those hay bails stacked almost to the roof, grabbing hold of that heavy sisal barn rope and wrapping our legs around the rope with our feet on a large knot tied near the bottom swinging out in a wide arc that seemed to make time stand still as you swept up to the other side of the barn with the sunlight flashing through the gaps in the boards, reaching the peak of the arc and then descending again backwards back up to the top of the hay bails with the thrill of slight trepidation that you might not be able to navigate the landing and once again you hold on as you swing back out through barn space at the unplanned mercy of gravity. At some point an unknown disgruntled adult removed the glorious rope. What a waste of the most joyful ride in the universe!