Jumping over the dark mahogany railroad ties that my father laid down as a barrier, I entered my favorite place. Bare toes and rough feet of my 9 year old self burrowed with joy into the wood chips that cushioned my kingdom.

The entire area smelt of damp, rich wood, always freshened by the honeysuckles sweet scent from their lazy seats on their wooden fence in the background.

My castle was wooden as well, 6 carefully and lovingly sanded steps up onto the throne where I could watch all I reigned: my dog, the four railroad ties barricading the wood shavings from spilling into the soft green grass, I could see my family inside, my house not but a quick dash away.

As the sun set, down the wooden slid and back onto the damp ground I would return inside. Smelling of bark, honey, and innocence.