Back in the day, I was the only girl in my neighbourhood, so played outside with boys almost exclusively. I was considered an honourary boy, able to destroy anthills and burn things with the best of them, and was only banned from tree-top urine-fights (not that I really minded.)
I have a multitude of funny anecdotes from the golden days, but I will share with you: The Blackberry Bramble. Not far from our court, was a vast field of wildflowers, ancient crumbling barns, and blackberry brambles. When we got hungry, but were feeling independant and wild, we would pedal fast and hard to the field to pick blackberries (which sometimes we would later present to various moms so they could make us tasty things.)
This particular time, we had also planned to build a treehouse out of the barn planks. On our way home, arms laden with splintery wood, someone pointed out an especially fruitful blackberry bush covered in dark shiny berries. We all rushed into the bramble to get the choicest berries, when suddenly we heard a CRACK and immediately afterwards a deep ominous hum.
We had broken a hornet's nest. We didn't immediately realize why there was an angry buzzing and small black shapes flying around us until someone screamed "BEES!" and ran for the hills. We threw our splintery wood aside and blindly scattered.
Later we reconvened in our court and compared hornet stories and stings. Exhausted, covered in wood splinters, throbbing from multiple stings, we lay on a cool damp lawn silently until supper, truly happy.
I have a multitude of funny anecdotes from the golden days, but I will share with you: The Blackberry Bramble. Not far from our court, was a vast field of wildflowers, ancient crumbling barns, and blackberry brambles. When we got hungry, but were feeling independant and wild, we would pedal fast and hard to the field to pick blackberries (which sometimes we would later present to various moms so they could make us tasty things.)
This particular time, we had also planned to build a treehouse out of the barn planks. On our way home, arms laden with splintery wood, someone pointed out an especially fruitful blackberry bush covered in dark shiny berries. We all rushed into the bramble to get the choicest berries, when suddenly we heard a CRACK and immediately afterwards a deep ominous hum.
We had broken a hornet's nest. We didn't immediately realize why there was an angry buzzing and small black shapes flying around us until someone screamed "BEES!" and ran for the hills. We threw our splintery wood aside and blindly scattered.
Later we reconvened in our court and compared hornet stories and stings. Exhausted, covered in wood splinters, throbbing from multiple stings, we lay on a cool damp lawn silently until supper, truly happy.