I just came across a treasure trove of early writings by me, my brothers and sister, and our village bush school in a dusty old dairy crate. (The crates are frequently beachcombed around here and are handy for storage, and the perfect dimensions for files.) I thought I'd put a new category on my blog: "From the Dairy Crate," and every now and then I'll put up a short blog post featuring one of the finds in it.
This time it's a true adventure I wrote up when I was probably twelve, accompanied by illustrations in pen. Here's what I wrote, misspellings, bad grammar, missing punctuation, and excessive exclamation marks included:
I remember that day very good. All five of us kids went up in the woods in late fall to play with our wooden swords. We set out to climb the biggest hill (mountain to us) in the woods. And there it was.
We climbed and we climbed turning to fight our companions once in a while when we needed to catch our breath.
Up that mountain of moss we climbed and believe you me that little hill surely put up a good fight. By this time we reached what we thought was the top we were tired. But wait! There in front of us was this other little part of the mountain! We hadn't reach the top yet! It was a green mossy mound with three trees growing out of it. We moved tiredly forward until we saw them.
Until we saw the green eyes of something big and dark hiding under that mound of dirt and moss.
We ran back down the mountain and to the house so fast you'd think our britches had caught fire.
We told our parents who then had one heck of a time getting any of us out there to show them what we were talking about. But Jamie finally went. With a gun. But when they got back we found out that what we saw were just some bright green rocks!