After my mom and dad built the new house, my sister and I had to play outside in the summer. I think my mom was just so proud to have a new house that she didn’t want it messed up at all.
My grandmother Mawdie babysat our little cousin Greg while his mom worked so we had someone who could help us come up with new fun things to do.
He had a gazillion little cars and trucks so sometimes we would find a good spot in the yard and build roads in the dirt with bridges and buildings. In order to have a bridge, you had to dig a hole in the ground and that’s exactly what we did. Most of the time, we would get spoons from the kitchen to dig our holes; sometimes we had to use other sticks. Occasionally, Mom would buy us popsicles and we always saved the sticks to use for the bridges. We used twigs and leaves to make buildings and our cars just had to have garages. Anyway, we would bring water to our holes and we never could understand why the water didn’t stay in the hole all day. I can’t forget to say that Bugs (my cocker spaniel) and Doc (Dad’s bird dog) usually got right in the middle of our construction. All they had to do was just walk through our building site and everything would be completely destroyed. But, we would just start all over again.
Getting water for our holes would give us another great idea — mud pies. So, we would bring more water and mix it with our extra dirt and make the most beautiful mud pies you ever saw. Sometimes I would find little flowers blooming in the yard and would mix them into my mud pie. Then we would take some of the muddy water and pretend to make coffee. Now, we never ever ate those mud pies, but they sure looked pretty.
When we got tired of playing cars, we would get on our bicycles and ride to the creek. We would get a good running start so we could get across the creek. You see, there was a lot of loose gravel and if you weren’t going fast enough, the bicycle wouldn’t be able to get through the gravel and you would fall. And I’m here to tell you that falling onto a bunch of sharp rocks is not what I call fun. I know I have said it before, but some days we probably rode our bikes 100 miles riding up and down the lane that ran beside our house.
Even if it was raining, we played outside but it was usually in the barn or corncrib. We never got bored because we always found something fun to do outside, even if it was just climbing trees or playing baseball with walnuts and sticks. I sure do miss those good ole days.
See ya next Wednesday.