Creativity took me to the backyard at my Mothers house yesterday. The backyard were my dreams were formed and created as a child. I felt sure that this simple place was something profound I was introducing to my son. He sat not moving and careful not to touch that tickle stuff grass (A completely absurd gene he inherited from his father who never takes his shoes off???)
The backyard was the first place I baked – mud pies with the dog. (My husband would wrinkle his nose at mud) My relationship with animals began in the backyard. My first cat mysteriously appeared there and stayed for 15 years. Peace reigned in my back yard. My cat and dog were the deepest friends to one another.
My first house was built there, with a bright yellow roof painted with red tulips as a trim. It was complete with picket fence and a sweeping kit. I had a table and chairs in perfect proportion to my little house and parents and friends were most welcome to tea. The dog had a matching miniature of my house. That was important.
I miss that house.
I’d lie on the small patch of grass staring to the sky till I saw those comical little dots moving around which I’m convinced are actually the bacteria on my eyeballs.
The whole world existed for me in that backyard and when I was my cousins backyard I never felt my lot was inferior. They had the rolling hills of Scotland for their backyard with a six foot Basset Hound who thought he was a short cow as he matched the cows in the neighbouring field. Yes I learnt freedom there in how to ride a bike and far, but my home was cherished perhaps because it was mine (and probably because it was warm – all year – Love Africa)