interest. There was a gigantic tree with huge roots above the ground. It provided a great deal
of shade and space to sit under it. We have pictures of my Grandpa Joe and Neil when he was
about two years old sitting under the tree on an old blanket. They both have the same look on
their faces--that of bewilderment, wondering I suppose why there was always so many people
in the backyard!
A swing set was left by the previous owners. It was a rusty red color with two swings and some
other attachment. I can't remember if it was a glider or trapeze. In the very back of the yard
was a large squarish boulder. Right on the other side of the fence, there was a flag pole. On federal holidays, the owners raised a huge flag. When Neil would spy the flag he would run to the boulder, climb upon it and salute the flag. What a cute kid with his skinny legs and summer buzz cut.
The most wonderful thing in the back yard, as far as my sister and I were concerned, was the
old faded blue playhouse. Dad thought it was unsafe from the time we moved in, but let it
stand. The playhouse floor was just dirt, but it had a least four windows in it. There were
two rooms, the one in the back was a few inches bigger than the front one. In summer, it was
very hot and even in the winter it was a little warm.
The playhouse had probably been painted white with baby-blue trim, but by the time we
lived there, it was all dingy and weather worn. I don't know who built it. It might have bee
our next door neighbor, Mr. Shellenberg, because he was very adept at making furniture.
Dad told us not to get too attached to it because it would have to be torn down since it was
so dilapidated. The door didn't close very well and the curtains on the windows were
tattered and faded, but we spent a lot of time in the playhouse either playing house or
card games at the red and white kiddie table. There were two matching red and white
kiddie-sized chairs reserved for Diane and Marsha, others would stand or sit on stools.
About the second or third summer we lived there, a violent storm just about tore the
playhouse apart. The roof caved in and the front door came off its hinges. Dad and one
of the neighbors tore the rest of it down and disposed of the wood somewhere. At my age disposal of splintered wood and other trash didn't concern me and I guess I wasn't very inquisitive. The strange thing was that in spite of all the time we spent in the playhouse, I don't remember missing it and in a few years I all but forgot it even existed. Children can be so fickle.
No comments:
Post a Comment