Secret spaces

The first house I remember had a fort in its backyard. The fort was a giant barrel on stilts. To get in, we climbed a ladder and opened a door; to get out, we jumped through a hole in the floor, landing in the sandbox below. My sister and I used to wish we could spin that barrel like hamsters, but it was firmly nailed. (Oddly enough, when we moved from that house to another, the new house stood near a park which had a big barrel that did spin.)

The fort stood in the far corner of the yard. A wooden fence to the left of the fort separated our yard from our neighbors'; a wire fence behind the fort separated our yard from a weedy wilderness. It was a vacant lot, I suppose; although my mother hacked a vegetable garden out of some of that weediness, so maybe it was just unused, not vacant. Milkweed grew back there, and sassafras. One of my parents — my mom most likley — taught us to chew on sassafras stems, which taste lemony. We loved the milkweed best, though. My sister and I used to reach through the wire fence to gather it. In late summer the pods get crunchy; when you break them open, silk bursts out. Seeds attach to the ends of the silk. My sister and I buried them in the sandbox, hoping they'd grow. The "milk" in the plant's stem made our fingers stick together; it is, according to this naturalist, as strong as rubber cement. He also says that milkweed's spring shoots can be eaten like asparagus, which is kind of funny because I remember my mom's excitement when she got asparagus to grow in her garden. Adjacent to the milkweed.

Our barrel fort had a small window which overlooked that wild space — the weeds, the beehives beyond the weeds, the stand of trees beyond that. My elementary school stood beyond the trees; in second grade my mother let me walk there alone. I loved to traipse through that wilderness (even after I got stung); passing out of view of the house was scary, but it made me stand taller.

I love the house I own now ... but it's missing a fort. I'm thinking we need to build an addition onto our garden shed! It would overlook our neighbors' chicken coop.

This post is part of Backyard Mama’s children & nature carnival.