15 minute free write
I remember what it was like to be a kid in this house. Especially in the winter time. It is a log house set on about 50 acres. The house itself sits on a little plateau of land that takes nearly two hours to mow on a riding lawnmower. This is something I should know very well, it being one of my duties growing up.
The plateau slopes down on three sides and is bordered on the third side by the road. The northern slope is the only one that was suitable for tobaganning. Each winter there would be one well worn path down that hill.
To the south an evergreen forest grows at the base of that hill. It is swampy. At the base of one often climbed tree is the shreds of an old tent. It went up one day when I was small and stayed up for a few weeks. We found it shredded one day. We suspected our cat.
The flat on the west side of the slope is wet for most of the summer. Reeds and cat-tails grow thickly there. On the other sides of the reeds is a steep hill that climbs up to the fields.
When I was small, this hill was nearly bare. Where it wasn't bare it was dotted with some cedar trees, one or two decidious trees and a willow. Maybe. I remember thinking there was a willow there when I was young, but I don't remember seeing one recently. The hill is now covered with a thick stand of cedars.
But when I was little and it was mostly bare, sometimes there would be just the right kind of snowstorm. It would turn whatever snow was on the hill into a thick slab of ice, nearly unclimbable. So of course, being nine, I had to climb it.
I remember one day my little sister and I and my friend from down the road made wooden climbing spikes and set out to climb the slippery hill. We took one stake in each hand and would climb hand over hand, dragging our bodies up the slick surface. Sometimes we would use a tree to help us up. Sometimes we would slip and end up at the bottom. Once, my sister came skittering down from above me, crying out in frustrated glee. I saw her coming, hooked my ankles around a nearby tree and hung upside down. As she passed I snagged her ankle and swung her at another tree. Laughing, she grabbed it. That became a game.
Time's up...
The plateau slopes down on three sides and is bordered on the third side by the road. The northern slope is the only one that was suitable for tobaganning. Each winter there would be one well worn path down that hill.
To the south an evergreen forest grows at the base of that hill. It is swampy. At the base of one often climbed tree is the shreds of an old tent. It went up one day when I was small and stayed up for a few weeks. We found it shredded one day. We suspected our cat.
The flat on the west side of the slope is wet for most of the summer. Reeds and cat-tails grow thickly there. On the other sides of the reeds is a steep hill that climbs up to the fields.
When I was small, this hill was nearly bare. Where it wasn't bare it was dotted with some cedar trees, one or two decidious trees and a willow. Maybe. I remember thinking there was a willow there when I was young, but I don't remember seeing one recently. The hill is now covered with a thick stand of cedars.
But when I was little and it was mostly bare, sometimes there would be just the right kind of snowstorm. It would turn whatever snow was on the hill into a thick slab of ice, nearly unclimbable. So of course, being nine, I had to climb it.
I remember one day my little sister and I and my friend from down the road made wooden climbing spikes and set out to climb the slippery hill. We took one stake in each hand and would climb hand over hand, dragging our bodies up the slick surface. Sometimes we would use a tree to help us up. Sometimes we would slip and end up at the bottom. Once, my sister came skittering down from above me, crying out in frustrated glee. I saw her coming, hooked my ankles around a nearby tree and hung upside down. As she passed I snagged her ankle and swung her at another tree. Laughing, she grabbed it. That became a game.
Time's up...
