The call of the rural
When my husband and I bought our house, the only drawback for me was the lot size: it's only 60 feet deep.
Do you want to know what that means for a back yard? Oh you do? Perfect, because I happen to have a visual for you. This is what it means:
That squarish snowy area is all there is for grass in our back yard. There's a little more to the yard, not pictured, but it's just deck area so that doesn't count. Full disclosure here: we did, in fact, build that deck. And it does take up at least half of the back yard, but we do not regret the building of said deck. We use it a lot. It's good to us. But that snowy area? It may look all pristeen and such with its white blanket, but underneath lurks a lot of evidence of our owning a beagle. Even when all that evidence is cleaned up, there are still inevitable skidmarks all over the place. A disgusting reality. So, the grassy area we do have is not what you would call ideal for a play area for three kids. Which is exactly what we find we are in growing need of. It's a problem. Now you'll see in the photo (beside the super awesome sign on the fence), a gate leading to our neighbour's yard. Well, those neighbours are even more awesome than that sign and let our kidlings bust through that gate at will to play in their much more normal-sized yard. It's truly generous and very much appreciated. The problem, though, is I come from a very different place than this postage stamp-sized yard deal. It just doesn't, in my head, equate with really important ways of spending time as a kid. See, my back yard for my formative years looked like this:
And that's only part of it. There were seven acres in total. Even better, beyond that field of wee trees, was this:
I spent so very many hours back there. I'd just tell my parents I was going out back and that I'd be back for dinner. Sometimes I'd have friends or my brothers with me, sometimes not (okay, so I was a bit of a loner, all right?!). I'd explore, discover and imagine. That place and my adventures there are an integral part of my memories of growing up. It is woven into my understanding of what it is to be a kid. I know many kids - most, even - grow up without this kind of space and they're none the worse for it, but my experience is my own and what I know. I'd really like for my kids to have the opportunity to have the same kind of space to run and be loud (or quiet) and twirl and jump and make up games that require ranging across multiple acres. But for now we are city dwellers on our tiny lot. We do have our neighbour's yard. And parks. And walks. And imaginations that just need to work a little differently from what I'm (seemingly always) picturing. We also enjoy, and probably take for granted, the convenience of our current location. We wouldn't quite have this anymore. And we'd probably find all sorts of other things we'd miss if we were to move somewhere a little less metro. The only thing is, I can't seem to remember feeling like I was missing out on any of that kind of stuff when I was a kid.
That squarish snowy area is all there is for grass in our back yard. There's a little more to the yard, not pictured, but it's just deck area so that doesn't count. Full disclosure here: we did, in fact, build that deck. And it does take up at least half of the back yard, but we do not regret the building of said deck. We use it a lot. It's good to us. But that snowy area? It may look all pristeen and such with its white blanket, but underneath lurks a lot of evidence of our owning a beagle. Even when all that evidence is cleaned up, there are still inevitable skidmarks all over the place. A disgusting reality. So, the grassy area we do have is not what you would call ideal for a play area for three kids. Which is exactly what we find we are in growing need of. It's a problem. Now you'll see in the photo (beside the super awesome sign on the fence), a gate leading to our neighbour's yard. Well, those neighbours are even more awesome than that sign and let our kidlings bust through that gate at will to play in their much more normal-sized yard. It's truly generous and very much appreciated. The problem, though, is I come from a very different place than this postage stamp-sized yard deal. It just doesn't, in my head, equate with really important ways of spending time as a kid. See, my back yard for my formative years looked like this:
And that's only part of it. There were seven acres in total. Even better, beyond that field of wee trees, was this:
I spent so very many hours back there. I'd just tell my parents I was going out back and that I'd be back for dinner. Sometimes I'd have friends or my brothers with me, sometimes not (okay, so I was a bit of a loner, all right?!). I'd explore, discover and imagine. That place and my adventures there are an integral part of my memories of growing up. It is woven into my understanding of what it is to be a kid. I know many kids - most, even - grow up without this kind of space and they're none the worse for it, but my experience is my own and what I know. I'd really like for my kids to have the opportunity to have the same kind of space to run and be loud (or quiet) and twirl and jump and make up games that require ranging across multiple acres. But for now we are city dwellers on our tiny lot. We do have our neighbour's yard. And parks. And walks. And imaginations that just need to work a little differently from what I'm (seemingly always) picturing. We also enjoy, and probably take for granted, the convenience of our current location. We wouldn't quite have this anymore. And we'd probably find all sorts of other things we'd miss if we were to move somewhere a little less metro. The only thing is, I can't seem to remember feeling like I was missing out on any of that kind of stuff when I was a kid.
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