We're sort of country kids, but we grew up in a town. Our weekends were spent on the outskirts. We were blessed enough to have a beautiful place to play. "the Ranch" is a 500ish acre piece of property owned by my dad and about 50 of his closest relatives. It was once a working cattle ranch, with a home and small school house on it. Today those buildings have been destroyed by time, weather, and a wild fire in 2006. All that remains are some of the old fences, and nature.
The Ranch has been quite a set of adventures for us. Many involve falling in the creek, rolling down hills, and hiking for miles. Bringing newts, salamanders, lizards and any other poor creature we could catch back to camp as a pet. Most of them survived, I think.
We had one great weekend, Labor Day or one of those. Where the cousins, friends, family and others came up to camp. Which put a herd of tweens and teens together with nothing specific to do. So we played hide-and-seek, in knee-high grass, on a very steep hill. Did I mention it was dark?
Which led to 8 kids running all over hills, falling on their faces, and shrieking in the dark. Because you can't get tagged if you scare the tar out of your pursuer. It wasnt until one of the girls got "attacked by a bear" that we decided to stop. Ok well there's a slight chance she scratched her head on a tree-branch, but the "bear" made a much better campfire story.
The next day we were packign to leave. Duck, sitting on a tailgate, swinging her feet. Being the little sister, I haaad to stand in her way, so she was kicking me. I started pushing her feet, she started kicking harder. I grabbed her leg and pulled her off the truck, she took one friend with us, who took her sister down too.
The result:
I guess the instagater always ends up on the bottom.
We had one great weekend, Labor Day or one of those. Where the cousins, friends, family and others came up to camp. Which put a herd of tweens and teens together with nothing specific to do. So we played hide-and-seek, in knee-high grass, on a very steep hill. Did I mention it was dark?
Which led to 8 kids running all over hills, falling on their faces, and shrieking in the dark. Because you can't get tagged if you scare the tar out of your pursuer. It wasnt until one of the girls got "attacked by a bear" that we decided to stop. Ok well there's a slight chance she scratched her head on a tree-branch, but the "bear" made a much better campfire story.
The result:
I guess the instagater always ends up on the bottom.
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