More Memories: Shooting Hoops
Today I am grateful for the fragrant smells of late spring and early summer that I enjoyed on this morning's walk I shared with our dog Oliver. I can't name all of the sources of the fragrances, but I can sure appreciate them.
The other night after I mowed some lawn and he helped Papa pull some weeds, our grandson Leo and I went over to the nearby park to shoot some hoops. It was just the two of us, two balls, and those touchy, bouncy rims with somewhat tattered nets that you most often find at park courts.
We took turns shooting, chasing after the balls, chatting a little. We definitely missed far more than we made, but we both had the satisfaction of a couple of "swooshes" at least.
It evoked more pleasant childhood memories for me, just like the mowing had. I spent many hours shooting hoops both indoors and outdoors at home growing up. We played countless games of "H-O-R-S-E" and I spent many more hours working on my shot. It paid off. I was a fairly successful varsity basketball player for three years in high school.
It's not a bad way to pass the time. We had a hoop mounted on a metal pole in our yard, between the back door and the larger chicken coop that we referred to as the chicken house. We played so much that we wore the grass off in the area closest to the basket. It was rough in spots and fairly unpredictable when it came to what would bounce where, but that's not a bad way to become more skilled with a basketball.
When the cold weather and snow cover made it impossible to play outdoors (and to keep the ball properly inflated) we would move indoors to the drafty hay barn for the winter months. The hoop was attached to one of the beams and a few of the floorboards were questionable, but we would spend hours in there as well.
Whether shooting baskets by myself, or playing H-O-R-S-E or a pick-up game with a few siblings, it was fresh air and exercise. Though the air was sometimes pungent with farm smells both indoors and outdoors, it was a price worth paying.
Sentimental and nostalgic memories. A good place to find some love and peace, and to begin a new day.
The other night after I mowed some lawn and he helped Papa pull some weeds, our grandson Leo and I went over to the nearby park to shoot some hoops. It was just the two of us, two balls, and those touchy, bouncy rims with somewhat tattered nets that you most often find at park courts.
We took turns shooting, chasing after the balls, chatting a little. We definitely missed far more than we made, but we both had the satisfaction of a couple of "swooshes" at least.
It evoked more pleasant childhood memories for me, just like the mowing had. I spent many hours shooting hoops both indoors and outdoors at home growing up. We played countless games of "H-O-R-S-E" and I spent many more hours working on my shot. It paid off. I was a fairly successful varsity basketball player for three years in high school.
It's not a bad way to pass the time. We had a hoop mounted on a metal pole in our yard, between the back door and the larger chicken coop that we referred to as the chicken house. We played so much that we wore the grass off in the area closest to the basket. It was rough in spots and fairly unpredictable when it came to what would bounce where, but that's not a bad way to become more skilled with a basketball.
When the cold weather and snow cover made it impossible to play outdoors (and to keep the ball properly inflated) we would move indoors to the drafty hay barn for the winter months. The hoop was attached to one of the beams and a few of the floorboards were questionable, but we would spend hours in there as well.
Whether shooting baskets by myself, or playing H-O-R-S-E or a pick-up game with a few siblings, it was fresh air and exercise. Though the air was sometimes pungent with farm smells both indoors and outdoors, it was a price worth paying.
Sentimental and nostalgic memories. A good place to find some love and peace, and to begin a new day.
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