As I think back on my childhood the word adventure comes to mind.
I lived during that time in history when it was safe for children to “roam the streets.”
Neighborhood kids would run in packs enjoying one adventure after another. Stopping in for lunch and then returning for dinner our parents really had little idea what we were doing.
Between creeks and wooded areas I had one adventure after another allowing my imagination to run wild.
I was watching my grandsons yesterday creating their own adventure in the big puddle that had accumulated in their gravel driveway.
As the youngest “dug for treasure” the oldest tried to figure out a way to dig a trench to help alleviate the “ water gap” as he called it.
With tractors, and shovels, hoes and orange safety cones they played contentedly all the while trudging through the puddles in their rubber rain boots.
At one point the youngest announced that he was soaking wet, and needed to take a shower. After closer inspection, it was only his arms that were elbow deep in water.
As I thought about the “magical” childhood these two were living I couldn’t help but thank God for this blessing of country living.
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