Last year, we discovered the joy of hay bale jumping. I never did this as a kid. My grandpa would bale the hay, and then let us (my brother and I, and the dogs) jump on top of each a bale - there would be fields full of hay bales. He would come along with the tractor, spear the hay bale with US ON IT and then drive us to the hay barn. Over and over again. My dad has a little bit of a different strategy - he sells his hay, because we don't have have any animals on the farm besides dogs and cats. So he lines up rows of hay on the terrace rows, long lines of hay bales. And we have discovered that it's super fun to run and jump along the tops of the bales. It's definitely something we have to do when we come home and there's still hay to be enjoyed.
This is what is left of the old treehouse (really, a platform) that my grandpa built for Christopher and I. I used to lay up in it with my Walkman and listen to - oh, so embarrassing - the Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves soundtrack.
This boy can run and jump.
You see why I am totally smitten with the child?
You can find ordinary magic, along the way...