This is my work spot. I like it.
But REALLY what I like about it is - imagining it is my own tree fort that I hide out in, high up in some shady trees, surrounded by big leafy branches. Being up on the top floor of the building, with cubicle walls I can't see over as I work, makes this easy to imagine. Sometimes work feels like a game to me, or that I'm playing pretend. Especially when I ride my bike to work. Riding my bike always brings out the kid in me.
I love my bike route to work. I pass golf courses, the high school, big green feilds, the temple, old weird houses, the hospital, spanky's diner, and the last stretch is a long smooth road that hardly anyone drives down that has horse pastures, big trees, and little streams to look at. Then I am at work up in my secret tree fort.
My job includes making secret maps and drawings, listening to music, and drinking soda.
I built countless forts and huts as a child romping around the un-developed neighborhood and gully by our house. I loved having my own little space I could be in, carved out of nature. Some of the huts we constructed were intricate, everyone with their own rooms, pathways connecting other huts, secret entrances, and on the inside there were shelves and hidden holes to burry our important stuff. Stuff being rocks and junk found at that weird little junk yard.
I don't think I realized how lucky we had it, having that gully right there to play in. Sad to think that some kids don't get to make forts and huts and run around wild like that.
I remember being so tired after working in my hut all day. Doing more manual labor than I would ever do at any paying job. I would lift big rocks, move logs, cut down brush... totally worth it. Then at night I would dream of other bigger huts I could make, and hide out in. I would draw the layout in my mind, and figure out all the engineering that would have to take place as I drifted off to sleep... that was the life.
I built countless forts and huts as a child romping around the un-developed neighborhood and gully by our house. I loved having my own little space I could be in, carved out of nature. Some of the huts we constructed were intricate, everyone with their own rooms, pathways connecting other huts, secret entrances, and on the inside there were shelves and hidden holes to burry our important stuff. Stuff being rocks and junk found at that weird little junk yard.
I don't think I realized how lucky we had it, having that gully right there to play in. Sad to think that some kids don't get to make forts and huts and run around wild like that.
I remember being so tired after working in my hut all day. Doing more manual labor than I would ever do at any paying job. I would lift big rocks, move logs, cut down brush... totally worth it. Then at night I would dream of other bigger huts I could make, and hide out in. I would draw the layout in my mind, and figure out all the engineering that would have to take place as I drifted off to sleep... that was the life.
I miss those days. I also miss the days when we didn't have bike racks here at work, so I would have to take my bike with me up the elevator to my cubicle. Now my bike stays downstairs.
That gulley really was awesome. And it seemed huge when we were little, with meadows of sticky flowers to chuck around.
ReplyDeleteI love that you pretend your cube is a tree house. I say you should decorate it. You should bring in some big branches with leaves and stick them on top so they cross over your cube, making a leafy rooftop. Perfect.
long live the gulley and those who wandered it in its days of glory
ReplyDeleteKylie, I like your thinking, I wonder if the building manager would approve. What I really want to work in is a leafy cave, and you have to duck to enter, that would be so cool!
ReplyDeleteWow, I never realized how different the world of Fort building was in other areas. You see, In the blistering hot summers of St. George, with nary a decent tree in site for a tree house, and very few gullies or secret hideouts, we turned into oversized ants, burrowing our way through vacant lots and fields, placing particle board scraps on top to shade us and feel the cool red dirt five or six feet deep. I remember the day that the Day's (a family down the street) started building their house and our fort was ruined. Probably felt kinda like when your work got a Bike Rack!!! We should've built our own shelter at Grand Staircase. Next time!!
ReplyDeleteYou desert kids had it hard, I had no idea!
ReplyDeleteRemember that Granite rocks were our money? Those were the glory days...
ReplyDeleteP.S. Hi!
I remember granite being the currency for our fort cities too. Probably picked it up from you older folk. Those cities were the best we each had our own jobs and we would trade junk that we found with each other for granite.
ReplyDeletecally, I'm glad you found my blog. I remember the granite... had no clue the younger kids carried on with that currency. Should have put some of that in the bank.. with the insurance I would be loaded if we ever started those huts up again.
ReplyDelete