PICTURE THIS 

CHAPTER 5

I loved our backyard.  We went into it from a nice big screened back porch where we ate, enjoyed our swing and spent most summer evenings.  The yard had a big tree just made for climbing.  I was very adept at this and had a couple of special spots in the branches were I lived and acted out imaginary tales.  Sometimes I was a queen in a castle.  Other times I was a cowboy riding my horse.  I was often a clown in a circus or a trapeze artist.  My ambition at that time was to be in a circus.  Also in the yard was a nice grape arbor with my swing.  Next to that was my playhouse that my Father had built for me.  Next to the playhouse was the woodshed with many interesting objects inside.  Then there was the “outhouse,” a place that turned out to be a sore spot with me.  The only place I condemned in the backyard. 

My Mother kept the “outdoor” room spotlessly clean.  It was not like so many that I have encountered.  Of course, in those early years it was furnished with the old Sears- Roebuck catalog.  This served as good reading or viewing material as well as for the practical use that was necessary.  Also it filled people with a sense of waste-not want-not, something that is lacking in our modern day.  One summer day I was enthroned when a gust of wind blew the door open.  From my position I could not reach it to pull it closed again.  I was in good view from the front sidewalk and much to my chagrin a gentleman friend of my aunt’s stopped, laughed and called to me.  I wished that the hole would swallow me! 

My most disastrous encounter with that outdoor room took place one spring just before Easter.  Mama had gotten me the most beautiful Easter hat and I had so admired myself in the mirror.  I wanted to wear it right away and thought it would be safe to venture outside.  I was wearing it when I needed to visit the little house.  Carefully I removed it and placed it beside me so I could admire it.  Then, horrors, I accidentally bumped it and gracefully it fell into the other hole!  Oh dear, what to do, how to face Mama!  I woefully gazed down into the depth and saw the beautiful hat with its flowers and ribbons lying on that pile of smelly waste.  There was nothing to be gained by just looking, so mournfully I returned to the house and with big sobs and tears, informed my Mother of the bad news.  She was very sad too, but she must have felt sorry for me and considered the incident as punishment for I got off with just a scolding.  I guess my hat that year for church was one left over from the former year.