It was as spartan a room as I have ever occupied but I remember loving to go in there and just sit and survey my domain. There is something really important about having that personal, private place to a young child. Especially an introverted one like myself. It was bereft of piles of toys and frilly decoration and somehow it suited me. An explorer’s cave, a refuge from the elements only, for at that time and in that place, exploring was my constant hobby.
The house sat on a small knoll and behind it was a dry land field planted in rye most likely. Beyond that was the woods and beyond that, wilderness. This was an intoxicating concept to me, to know that the wilderness went on and on and it pretty much began at our back door.
I spent hours roaming through the woods and the small open meadows where short, fine, fragile grasses grew in the cool months, but dried up and all but disappeared in summer heat. I gathered mistletoe and pine cones and acorns to build miniature towns on the edge of little temporary streams that only appeared during a rainy spell. It didn’t matter to me if it was cold or drizzling outside. I was out there gathering lime green lichen off the trees that made good looking haystacks for my towns by the stream. There were no plastic toys or battery powered things to keep me from my creative quests. Maybe that is why I am so conflicted about technology. I grew up such an earthy little wanderer, never afraid of muddy knees or horse hair, or wet tennis shoes. I grubbed about alone or with my little brother and his friends and breathed the free air on the edges of the frontier. Growing up like this makes it harder for people to pull the wool over your eyes.
P.S.
Robbie is fine, having a quiet day, but up and about, eating, drinking and sleeping off what’s left of the sedatives. He’s not thinking about playing “chase the laser” just yet though, we’ll give him a few more days.