Looking
back, it was the biggest, ugliest backyard structure one could imagine. As I envisioned and built my three-story hut over
several years, one story at a time, it became a boy’s play world to be envied. Our backyard on 2nd Avenue (SLC) was second
to none … behind an old home originally built by a pioneer, mostly torn down
and rebuilt by my father. It was like a
field of dreams where I spent endless hours as a young boy working hard at having
fun.
The
northeast section of the yard had little or no landscaping except a big apple
tree at the north wall, shading a huge sandbox and tree house that Dad built
for us kids. An old log wall, probably
built by a previous pioneer owner, separated this frontier from the lawn to the
south, and was the beginning as a sturdy support for the hut. (In one of Kay’s heavier albums we have a
photo of my hut with a younger brother and me looking out of second-story
windows above the “great wall”, and a sister riding the pony nearby … a future addition to this
post.)
Built
with old wood and nails saved from the original pioneer home, it was low-budget
(more like no-budget) construction, free from power tools, building codes and
inspectors … except maybe my father making sure it didn’t collapse on a child. The third story was made of lighter-weight
wood which could easily blow off in a high wind, but which reduced the risk of
crushing the rooms below.
On
the northwest section of our backyard was a pony house and fenced area for the …
(you know it.) In between the pony
property and frontier was a big lawn where my friend Lassie roamed and did his
thing which I was responsible for cleaning up every week. One year we had a lamb using that pasture … more
cleanup. The southeast section was the asphalt raceway for our
rugged tricycle and wagon to do wild, endless laps around a long flower bed and
clothesline. South of that was a big
drive-through garage with wide back doors, perfect for delivering lumber, etc.
for additions I helped Dad build on the back of the house as the family grew.
The way my hut was built makes me
wonder – without a plan, using old materials full of cracks and holes, and
nails that took time to straighten out by patiently hammering, sometimes
hitting my fingers … what was I thinking?!
I won’t call it a metaphor for life; (Google defines as “a figure of
speech …”). Hopefully it didn’t set a haphazard
(G defines as “lacking any obvious principle of organization”) pattern for my
life, but a dream-come-true that gave me self-confidence and the joy of carefree
fun. Youth -- married life with children -- empty-nester … a wonderful three-story life that cannot be compared to my three-story
hut. However, I do need to reinforce that third
story before a high wind hits.
