happy hauntings8:12 AM
Pines stood fiercer to the north and west of our house.
A forest, I'd shiver.
The creek ran wild, cutting me off from overgrown realms, 'til my father built three little bridges to stitch the two sides of the water's slice together.
The orchard seemed impossibly far off; one either had to brave the forest or the shadowed clutters of the car-port. Port makes me think of industry and bustle; not quite the shady tomb of hoarded scraps and mechanisms it was and is. I still love going out there to defy spider-sovereignty.
We've got some intense shrubbery banking our driveway. When my body was half-height, I discovered a room in the shrubs that welcomed my size, or lack thereof. I dreamt of channeling a network, but the larger part of that word is "work" so I was content to wriggle in and pass the time just breathing.
Summer nights were grand. We five would blare a polka cassette and rollerblade every spare inch of patio and sometimes the lawn if an oncoming sibling offered either collision or compromise.
And this brings me to the best of childhood: siblings. Of toys or treats I recall little. The chaos of rivalry I recall much but the warmth of companionship I recall most.
Give a child space, a portion of wild, and a set of interchangeable allies and foes (siblings) and there you will have happiness.