This is Frank’s backyard.
How wonderful to have a place like this, to call your own and make it home.
Hubby and I love trees, and had so many wonderful walks in the woods prior to buying the boat.
There aren’t many trees around us actually, and our own back yard is mainly lawn with our veg patches, an apple tree and washing line. The rose bushes and lavender have been put in large pots as it’s easier to cut the grass by moving a pot instead of trying to mow round a plant in situ.
We’ve been back to the woods a couple of times since our return to Lincolnshire and a lot of the tall pines have been cut down. Sad.
The back yard in the council house where I was born was long and narrow. I had a swing that could be attached by its ropes to the large hooks in the crossbeam at the beginning of the garden. I remember screaming my head off as Great Gran pushed me higher and higher, unaware that a wasp was continually stinging me as I’d sat on it. Ouch.
Mum’s washing line was a tent support for us kids. We’d throw a large blanket over the line and peg it down then have our picnic or little tea party on a mat under cover, even when it rained!
Grandad made an enclosure for our lizards and slow worms out of an old bird cage, and that stood on bricks on the right of the path, opposite Mum’s line.
We had a brick shed, and inside was Dad’s tools and a box in which we’d put our tortoise for hibernation. I don’t know what happened to it and guess it died, but rather than upset us, Dad said it had run away. We also had a lean-to by the back gate behind the coal shed and outside loo (we let our slow worms loose under the door when Mum was in there once), and that housed the family’s push bikes and my little tricycle. I used to climb up and over the gate to get in as I was too short to reach the bolt. Why I didn’t just climb high enough to unlock the bolt I don’t know, but I guess that was the nearest I got to being a tom boy.
At the bottom of the garden was a compost heap of sorts. I remember Dad planting runner beans and carrots, but all we got were mushrooms.
Happy memories of that house. We moved out of it in 1965……… via the back door and back yard as the new people moved in through the front. It was chaos as they’d arrived early and had nowhere else to go, so we moved into the house that Dad built, which had no electricity connected and went to bed by candlelight. What an adventure!
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