I loved playing in haystacks. Of course, a haystack made of alfalfa is scratchy and makes me sneeze, but a nice soft one made of straw was all fun.
Right along side the corral, my dad would stack up a hug stake of straw bales. As a little kid I would usually lounge about the partially built stack waiting for the next truckload of bales to be brought in and then watch them build this prairie skyscraper.
Secretly, I was there to try to convince my brothers to build into the stack a bunch of secret rooms and tunnels. That way I could be saved all the trouble of reconstructing the stack to fit my needs. They were less than accommodating I must say.
Inevitably the bales closest to the corral would be thrown down soonest so there would be a gradual consumption of my little castle. But this uneven usage of the stack would also lend additional terrain for many great games. The high side of the stack was the parapets of my medieval castle. The low side a construction site for new forts, or a platform to prepare weapons of war to fend of the evil invaders from the north side of the tracks.
Ah the days of make believe wars.
One summer we found a bundle of broom handle sized poles. We quickly added 2x4 chunks to one end, a clothes line clip up top (I wonder if grandma ever knew where all her clothes pins went), a notch on one end and had ourselves an arsenal of elastic band guns. Aided by the discovery of a box of elastic bands, we began a regular series of war reenactments. Capturing a flag and defending a flag or secret stratagems would be employed.
An arms race began as well, when someone discovered how to load multiple rubber bands and still only shoot one at a time. This was a decided advantage from a "one" shooter.
Perhaps these were some of my fondest moments during those years before I was so worried about dances, sports teams and social order.
As I watch my kids create games on our playhouse equipment, in our small little suburban yard, I wonder if they are constructing the same parapets and armament munition piles I once did. Perhaps that little moment of playful aggression will bring them happy solace one day as well.
2 comments:
I just don't like when the playful aggression turns out into all out war. You write so well. I wish I could have grown up with you.
I guess we just get to grow old together now.
Post a Comment