The hole.

In my back garden I have a tree. It is a beautiful weeping willow. Its trunk is covered in crinkly bark and its exposed roots creep out of the ground underneath the swaying, hanging branches. Quite often you can find one of my cats in the fork of the branches having a nap in the sun or spying on scurrying squirrels. My children like to sit on the large roots of the tree and play games together and have picnics. For me, the willow encapsulates their childhood. If I had any artistic ability whatsoever I would paint or draw a picture of my children with the tree so I could have the memory out on display and always with me.  What I would omit from the painting however would be the waist deep holes the little devils dig whenever my back is turned. On some days when the workers have been particularly productive with their pink seaside spades its like something out of  an Indiana Jones film when trying to get to the washing line. My children can spend hours and hours simply digging these huge, dangerous holes. In the summer holidays I must admit the fascination of creating all the cavities is an absolute God send as it keeps them occupied whilst I get on with housework. Ultimately its quite dangerous and I was thinking the other week that it really needs to stop. Then the neighbours children got involved. I looked out into the garden one day after school to do a quick head count and there were two extra little bodies standing round the largest hole with spades in hand and an eager look on their faces. They just couldn't wait to get cracking on making the creator even bigger. They got stuck in and the dirt was flying! Mounds and mounds of earth built up around them. It was very impressive. They had quite a good system in place. Two kiddies were in the hole beavering away and working up a sweat whilst the other two were distributing the extracted earth discreetly around the garden in the flower beds and, at one point, over the fence. For a group of under tens it was a magnificent example of team work. I left them to it. I went and did the washing up. I returned to the garden with a tray of juice and crisps for the industrious workforce. I set the tray down and admired their handiwork. The hole was quickly becoming a trench. You could quite easily have laid down in it safe in the knowledge you would never get hit from flying bullets overhead. The children guzzled the juice and sat around  the excavation crossed legged and munching up the crisps. I went back indoors and left them to their well earned break. Gradually the afternoon sloped away and dinner time came and I called my children to come in and wash their hands. They ate their meal (a nutritious feast of chicken nuggets and potato smiles) and also had a nice choc ice for dessert (eight for a £1. Bloody bargain). After a spot of telly I bathed them all and put them to bed. The day was over. The light was fading. I remembered the washing I had yet to drag in. I put on my shoes and went to grab the towels from off the line. You know what's coming next, don't you? Why, yes! I fell directly into the hole. The kids had covered the hole with leaves and sticks in true Goonies style and had made the innocent hole I had been admiring all afternoon into a deadly trap. Its been a long time since I have properly fallen over. You don't really fall over when you're in your thirties unless you're drunk or its snowing. Falling over is usually reserved for children and the elderly. It was a bit of a shock to the system. It was also a bit shameful that the neighbour who had snuck out for a crafty cigarette saw me tumble and was giggling behind her veil of smoke. My knees and my ego were both equally bruised.
I made the children fill in the hole. They didn't want to, but it had to be done. It took them twice as long to pad out the chasm because they had disposed of the earth so well. They improvised with pegs and bits of rubbish and what looked like a slat from one of their beds. So as well as a willow tree in the middle of the garden there now exists a miniature landfill. Both of which are as inspiring as the other. The tree is naturally awesome. The landfill a child-made wonder to behold.