March Madness-Country Style!
Nope. No basketball hoops growing up in the country. No snowmobiles or 4-wheelers back then either. I dare say if we had stuff like that we probably wouldn't have bothered with any of it for we had our own versions of what we considered fun-know today as recreational playtime.
Any hint of spring would find us outside in the mud; making snowballs that would soak our mittens and marching through puddles that would flood our boots. Once the stream that meandered its way between the farmhouse and our clubhouse began to wake up, we'd help it along with shovels and picks and whatever else we could find in the shed. It came through a tunnel built underneath the road; run-off from a field that stretched way back to the pine grove. If you bent over and yelled your loudest into the tunnel, it would echo out the other side. Sometimes we'd throw stones into the tunnel to see who could throw the farthest. We had lots of fun with that tunnel. It became whatever we wanted it to be.
Once we felt the stream was ready, we'd take little twigs and have races to see which twig could make it down to the flat rock first. The course was a rough one with patches of ice cakes still in place. The best twigs would flow right underneath them and come out farther down the stream. You had to watch for your twig. Sometimes it'd get lost in the muck along the way. Sometimes the race would end in a tie. The next day we'd be right back at it. That is unless winter had returned over night and froze the stream in place just as we'd left it. That didn't stop us. Because of its overflowing banks we had more room to skate-until it opened up again and we'd be back running our races.
I've never been to Disney World but I have been under the road playing in the tunnel that became a ship or hideaway or castle. I have frolicked in the stream that offered hours of pure fun-where our imaginations took off just like those twigs hurrying along. There were never any crowds to fight; no long lines to stand in. And there was never a charge for playing to our heart's content!
Any hint of spring would find us outside in the mud; making snowballs that would soak our mittens and marching through puddles that would flood our boots. Once the stream that meandered its way between the farmhouse and our clubhouse began to wake up, we'd help it along with shovels and picks and whatever else we could find in the shed. It came through a tunnel built underneath the road; run-off from a field that stretched way back to the pine grove. If you bent over and yelled your loudest into the tunnel, it would echo out the other side. Sometimes we'd throw stones into the tunnel to see who could throw the farthest. We had lots of fun with that tunnel. It became whatever we wanted it to be.
Once we felt the stream was ready, we'd take little twigs and have races to see which twig could make it down to the flat rock first. The course was a rough one with patches of ice cakes still in place. The best twigs would flow right underneath them and come out farther down the stream. You had to watch for your twig. Sometimes it'd get lost in the muck along the way. Sometimes the race would end in a tie. The next day we'd be right back at it. That is unless winter had returned over night and froze the stream in place just as we'd left it. That didn't stop us. Because of its overflowing banks we had more room to skate-until it opened up again and we'd be back running our races.
I've never been to Disney World but I have been under the road playing in the tunnel that became a ship or hideaway or castle. I have frolicked in the stream that offered hours of pure fun-where our imaginations took off just like those twigs hurrying along. There were never any crowds to fight; no long lines to stand in. And there was never a charge for playing to our heart's content!
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