My kids want a treehouse.
They want a treehouse really badly.
But our woods aren’t really ours, and our trees are nowhere near big enough.
But oh, Grandma and Grandpa have trees. Big, sixty-year-old silver maples just crying out to be made into a treehouse.
On Easter Sunday, Alex and his cousin E. designed a treehouse. I really thought it was a lark–a cool idea, but not very practical. But Grandpa liked this idea. Grandpa pulled out his graph paper and started designing, looking around the farm to see what leftover lumber he had…and now the family has scheduled an entire weekend to get together and build the grandkids a treehouse.
This week, the boys and I celebrated the first week of summer by going up to the farm to pull nails out of old boards in preparation for the big build.
After all that hard work, the boys deserve a treat, right?
Brace yourselves. If you’re one of them thar city folk, you may find this shocking. But sometimes, on a hog farm, animals die. And they have to be dealt with somehow. On this farm, they became compost. And, er, an archaeological zone for my boys. Don’t ask me to explain the stroller. Even I am stymied to put words on that one.
This interesting cinderblock building is the garage. Dirt floor, horse tack dating back to my grandfather’s childhood, and the most interesting grain bins on the second floor. Obviously it’s not in great shape anymore. My parents are preparing to demolish this institution of my childhood (boo hoo!), but in true farm fashion its innards are being repurposed for…wait for it…a treehouse.
In the meantime, Alex has discovered a new favorite activity for a farm visit: climbing down from the window:
The equipment parking lot, with the soon-to-be treehouse framing it
Ah, now for a nice lunch with Grandpa….
…and a nice rock with Grandma.
And since we’re on an agricultural theme, and Miss Julianna was still in school on the day we visited the farm, let me round out the post with a picture of her at her first adaptive horseback riding lesson.