This past weekend we got out of Portland and headed West to my parent’s house on the Columbia River. They live just up the road from Mayger beach where my brother and I spent a good portion of our childhood swimming, exploring, and blowing things up with fire crackers. My dad spent all of his childhood doing the same thing, and now with their grandparents having such a cool house just up the road my boys will get that same experience in the same place. Nostalgia mixed with the magic of new eyes.
In the front yard of my parents house are the beginnings of a fantastic playground. A boat, made of reclaimed barn wood and old signs, was pulled from a dumpster at Anthropologie, given a steering wheel, and filled with sand for the coolest sandbox around. Old rope washed ashore from one of the many ships that head up and down the river was used to make rope swing in the giant spruce tree. There are cones and balls for soccer drills and buckets and shovels everywhere. A giant wagon carries all manner of toys and junk from the garage around the driveway as the boys tell elaborate work stories. They move around the property with purpose and confidence, not afraid to crawl under the trailers and explore the piles.