Remember When: Nature’s Playhouse

Making Do With What You Have

When I was 10 we moved to a farm in southern Missouri, from the suburb we lived in outside of Davenport, Iowa. My parents had always wanted to live in the country, so when the city moved the limits to include the suburb where we lived they decided to move. Some friends of theirs had already made the move and convinced them to come to Missouri.

It was a whole new world for us kids. We didn’t have all the neighborhood friends we had in Iowa so we had to find ways to occupy ourselves. We had to find things to do because toys were not received except at Christmas. Living out in the country during the 50’s we didn’t know economic times were hard, everyone was in the same situation. We took it in stride and came up with our own toys and places to play. One such place was our take on a playhouse.

About 100 yards behind the hay barn on the farm was a giant weeping willow tree. It was probably 80 feet tall or seemed like it, and the limbs hung down all the way to the ground. They were thick and would swing like curtains in the breeze. Inside the circle of the limbs, it was clear of brush and smooth like a floor. We used this area as our makeshift playhouse. We found an old wooden box large enough to be a table. Some old chairs and a bookcase we used as a cabinet/pretend stove. The farm dump was a treasure trove of pots, pans, and dishes.  We girls were in charge of the cooking and the boys would go out and hunt for food. Sometimes mom would let us pack a lunch and take it to the playhouse to eat. My little sister found an old drawer from a dresser in the barn and she used it as a bed for her dolls. Many an afternoon was spent playing under the swinging limps of that tree.

We were even able to stay there when it was raining; the limbs were so thick the rain didn’t come through. We would set close to the tree trunk and listen to the rain coming down. We had some old blankets and we would pretend we were camping. With the raindrops hitting the leaves we often found ourselves lulled to sleep. If mom couldn’t find us around the house or barn she usually found us in the playhouse.

Means of Escape

As I got older it was my favorite place to go and read after my morning chores were done. I have always been an avid reader. I liked adventure books and it was my way of escaping. I had dreams of traveling to faraway places and books were my way of getting there. Mom said I spent too much time with my nose in a book and not helping her around the house. But I couldn’t help it; I always had a book in my jeans pocket. I still have that passion today, not only reading books but writing them.

I could escape to a faraway place when I was reading, Africa or the mountains of the far east or the western United States. With the limbs of the tree sweeping the ground in the breeze, my sister sleeping on a blanket with her doll, it was easy to find myself in the midst of the story.

I often think of those times playing in the playhouse with my siblings. we were close back then and still are today. I wish we still owned the farm and that old willow tree.