Playing in the Country

By Ann Cullinan, November 10, 2015 – My brother and I were raised outside of Coatesville, PA.  We could not see another house from ours.  We played out in the fields, in the creek, on other people’s properties. Our beagle, Patches, was always with us. We pretended that Patches was leading us to criminals in the weeds.  We were explorers splashing thru the creek, wading thru the mud (quick sand).

We were able to play independent of any adult supervision.  We noticed and enjoyed the pretty trees and field, the smell of the different seasons.  Fall is sweet and sour with orange and brown leaves.  Winter smells clean.  Spring is light with rebirth of the earth– buds, new leaves, and grass.  Summer smells oppressive. Everything is too intense. Summer involves TICKS!

I realize that my brother and I got along with each other when we were outside.  We were a team.  We were friends.  This is different from in the house where we quarreled or ignored each other.  I am certain this is because of the healthy positive playful hours spent outside.

Now my brother is in his late 60s and I‘m in my early 70s.  I can still experience the fun we had together.  I can feel it in my being.  I feel so lucky that I spent my childhood in the country.  A lot has happened to each of us since then.  We’ve lived apart for most of our adult lives. But, when we are together, we’re as close as we were when we were explorers and detectives.