Columnists
Backyard Builds and Cookies
Every once in a while I find myself longing for a bit of warm weather. However, the older I get, the faster time seems to pass. Why would I wish Spring away when it seems to be flying by? So, instead of pining for Summer, I’m going to make the best of what’s going on right now! And, right now I’ve got a great big yard full of winter-fall twigs and the remainders of autumn leaves which were covered in an early snow storm last year. I’ll clear the leaves and twigs and wonder just how pretty do I really want the yard to be? As kids we were blessed with a backyard full of wild flowers. One day, for whatever reason, our Mom decided to tame it all the wildness. But I loved all of the Milkweeds, the Daisies, Cornflowers, Buttercups, Thistle and, believe it or not, the Dandelions. I loved them all. I loved the little butterflies – the white and yellow ones. I loved the Monarchs when they visited the Milkweed. But, one day Mom’s little white fence went up, effectively dividing the backyard into two distinct sections. In the front of the fence was green lawn and flowers beds, beyond the white fence was the kitchen garden, the currant bushes, the plum trees and the compost heap. All of the beautiful, wild flowers were gone. Mom then spent years controlling, and taming, the “back forty”. She was done with the wildness. She’d probably had enough of the seven wild kids who she couldn’t really control. Then the day came when the forts were dismantled and the pit, which was our failed attempt at digging a swimming pool, was filled in and neat rows of vegetables appeared.
But now I’m done with the tame and I’m all about “the wild”. This is year three (maybe four) of my wild section in our “back forty”. It’s where the bird feeders live. It’s where the “weeds” go untamed and the bunnies nest. It’s not pretty. It’s beautiful. The Spruce and Empire Locust shade the area a bit too much for all of the showy wild flowers I remember as a kid. But the trees are home to dozens of birds and host the nests of squirrels. Every once in a while I think perhaps the biggest tree needs to go away so I can have my sun-loving wild flowers. But as I stand in the midst of it all I realize I’m okay with a different kind of wild yard. The beautiful Hostas, delivered in a wheelbarrow many years ago from Marianne’s yard, are thriving. I know Hostas aren’t wild but now they are untamed and allowed to spread in every direction. There are a couple of rogue Tulips back there. Again, not wild or from a “fancy” garden but likely transplanted by the squirrels. What’s not to love about that!?
Last year our “wild section” of yard became home to a few toads! Several little toads and one great big fella who, whenever he’s in the mood, makes a lot of noise. This year I want to give the little birds a wild fence to live in along with a small pool of water for dipping and drinking. Our youngest grandson wants to build a fort back there because he thinks it would be a good place to dig for, and to hide, treasures. Who am I to argue with his logic? I think I could be a design assistant to his build vision. Grandpa can be the voice of wisdom. We’ve got a barn full of end cuts, off cuts, a bale of shingles, old doors and windows which have been waiting for a subdivision project close to the Gram Gram ’ s home. I’m looking forward to a couple of days of sawing, nailing, hefting and digging.
I wonder if The Kid will understand all of the stories from my childhood fort building days. My Dad would give us a jar of bent nails which we had to hammer straight on the patio. We were allowed to use any of the tools on the bench as long as we used them properly and returned them clean. Most of the “forts” in our childhood neighbourhood were built upon an appliance box substructure. Chest freezer boxes were the best but a couple of stove crates could be used to build a two-room hideaway. Everything was held together with those bent nails, twine, broken hockey sticks and old tarpaulins. I’m not trying to move the season along but I am looking forward to construction starting.
I hope the kid and I get to celebrate our back forty build with some mud pies and a glop of dandelion soup or maybe a glass of juice and a few cookies. Ya, that’s the ticket!
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