..and although lightening struck a tree and fell over on my late fathers’ barn…I am really quite content.
When it rains and turns cool after such a long hot rainless menacing irritating intolerable sticky humid summer, and because I love to sit on my front porch reminiscing on days such as this, I notice a significant hole in my shrubs that sit up against the porch. My Annie occasionally hides out in there and witnesses the hub bub of my life without having to move an inch.
I waft back into my childhood. Playing Barbies was an integral part of my existence back then. I ponder…”Damn that hole would have made a great *tree house* for my partners in charm.”

I just knew how to imagine and create with what was available. I am not sure our wee ones can anymore.
Our neighborhood posse had the woods in back of us in the way back when days. Now THAT was heaven. No one claimed squatters rights. We all had a common purpose. We all had the same goals. Any war proclaimed on each other, brought about by sheer boredom, quickly came to a halt. Our attentions and intentions were focused on…the making of our neighborhood fort. I don’t know the reason, and it matters not, because it soon became clear that the refuse was our refuge, but someone was clearing some of the land back there.
Damn that made for hours and hours of impregnable camaraderie.