Ode to the sandbox

In a moment of grandeur this morning, I decided that I would make it a personal mission to create an annual  National Sandbox Day, then work to publicize it for all that it is, and somehow make a living off of doing that, so I could play in sandboxes and build them and write about them and talk about them until ripe for retirement.  Would it not be possible?  The sandbox is a blank canvas for little hands and imaginations; a place to lose oneself (my adult self for example) in the present; a way to be constructive, freely, outside and even in a small space; a place to bring new life to toys by changing their context and the story around them; a place to make toys out of nothings; a place to build mountains and a place to practice for the beach ... all of which can happen every single time one enters, each day, anew.  I just love diving into that thing and so do the boys.  So excited to "make some stuff."

My brother and I spent days upons days of summer after summer in our sand pile.  It was a 'pile' back then, and back there, growing up in a place where we had the space, and it neednt be pretty.  We made tunnels, hills, caves, buildings, cities, racetracks.  We held olympic events, competing in any number of sports that involved running and jumping, when the pile got re-upped with a load of new sand.  This always resulted in a mound that had to be beat down before we got around to more construction for the scaled-down cars and trucks and action figures.  The new sand was always so cold and clean, so fun to wiggle your hands into up to the shoulder, squeeze as hard as you can, see how long it took before you weren't sure where your hands were anymore, to extract your cold solid white-sand limbs.  One summer (maybe more, I don't know) we planted corn in the sand pile and that became a part of the scene.  I am sure Travis remembers more than I...

Just over 3 years ago (ugh, holy cow!  its happening!), Uncle Travis and I built Alder's and Heath's sandbox from the benches of a picnic table that our Dad made before we can remember.  Countless stories ... OK, I have to recount one: one of the sides of this sandbox, when it was a picnic table bench, fell and broke Travis' toe when he was not much older than Alder in this pic:

Today, this mere 18' deep box of sand has remained a hit, year round for our boys.  They just get in and get lost.  They like to have it clean so they can build and look and negotiate (yes, argue sometimes) and undo and re-do and kick it all down before they leave... before they come back again.  They love unearthing little things they totally forgot they had.  They gripe about the gumballs that they dig out.  They always leave shoes and socks scattered all over, on their way into it, then forget to bring them in unless reminded.  They fly back into the house covered in it, unless stopped, to brush off first.  Their bed has sand in it now.  There is some in my hair now.

We were in there before 830 this morning, and I dont know what time we got out.  Here's Heath's little space to park his machines and cars.  He wanted an earthen roof.  Then Alder did.  I like when things go in that order, since most of the time its the other direction.

and Alder's:

I have shown them the many many ways you can use a little block from a 2 by 4 to build so many things.

Recently a water tower was deconstructed near our house and the boys seem to always want to have one amidst their other construction.  The structure in the middle, scrap PVC and wood, is a water tower.  (They chose to match shirts today.)

 This was purposeful:  "no-head turtle is watching over the corvette"

I had to jump out to hang clothes out.  (We have been without clothes dryer for at least four months now.)  But, when leaving my moment of grandeur, after wallowing in the steady wonder of the sandbox with the boys, amazed again at how endlessley it gives back,  I looked back and was reminded that it does have its limits... thankfully... or it wouldnt really be that fun at all.