The Rope Swing and Pool by Maud

My Special Place

The memories of a muddy ramp and stinging nettles take me to Sussex, to a rope swing in an amazing garden. The rope that is as strong as a bull swings greatly from a humongous tree. The tree towers above like a giant, overpowering a colony of ants, the only way to even seem as high as the tree is to swing on the rope! Even though the frayed rope seems untrustworthy, it’s as stable as a column in a castle. The higher you trudge up the squelchy ramp the higher and further you swing. When up there in the clouds your spirit is free to roam and you feel like you are 1000 feet tall. But your incredible time can be spoiled by the stinging nettles. When they attack they bring pain and agony to you.

The pool, the freezing bucket of joy. The place where I go numb with delight. It is caved off by fences and plants and there Sky (our friend’s dog) goes swimming with me. The tiles are all different shades of blue. It’s shape is curved and at the shallow end there are slow descending stairs leading to the bottomless surface. And when the thermometer goes in to test the temperature, when you hear the shrieks of joy you know the temperature is high. But when the grunts of disappointment reach your ears you know it’s bad news, the temperature is low.

The feeling of damp feet and soaking shoes and the sound of a deafening whistle. The green field, as boring it may seem, has memories that are unbelievable. Like the time Sky went outside, in the night and in pitch black, we were standing ankle deep in mud and marshy land. Surprisingly Sky was foraging through the nettles and thorns. After wrenching him out, causing his harness to come off, we had to drag him up the stony path to the comfort and warmth of the bungalow. The neighbouring field houses deer and sometimes cows. Behind the pool there is a forest of apple trees, holding enough apples to feed the five thousand. And down a steep ramp you get to the tennis court. I am not the biggest fan of tennis but my friend and I can pull enjoyment out of the picking of the weeds. They scatter themselves under and over the artificial covering of the ground.                                

My special place may not seem too special but it’s special to me!

                                                Maude