What Fuels A Child's Imagination

When I was a small child, we lived on some land that had our house at one end, my grandparents' house at the other end, and a small empty barn in between our homes. That barn was the epicenter of my young days.In east Tennessee, the soil isn't so much soil as it is pottery that just hasn't had a chance to fully fire yet. I'm talking red clay. Solid red clay. The floor of this barn was red clay that had been walked on and worked on for years and years. It was as hard as concrete. As smooth as if someone had sanded it down to perfection.

And cool. Even on those hot, endless August summer days in the south, I can remember opening up that barn door and a jolt of cool air hitting me as if the barn was air conditioned. I would walk in bare foot on that cool, hard floor and immediately feel better.

My imagination could run wild inside that barn. I remember dragging my dolls and my tea set in there and having wonderful tea parties where the talk among my dolls and me would be all about what dangerous things were going on outside the comfort of our worn, wooden walls.

Other days, I would imagine the undiscovered treasures of past civilizations that laid beneath my feet covered with that hard packed soil. In my mind, that barn was a million years old and had seen more than its share of exciting times and people. I just knew there were secrets buried beneath me.

When I think about those days that were over 40 years ago, the memories flood back so vividly. I can almost feel that soil under my feet right now and I can smell that smell - slightly damp and musty and very earthy - that hit me every time I opened the door. I am instantly transported back to those wonderful years of my childhood.

It was magical. I've tried to provide opportunities for my own kids to have that magic.

Let's hope I've succeeded.