A Bonus post of some additional shots that I took today. I went for a walk through pop's basement just to reminisce and try to capture a few moments from my childhood. First, let me just tell you that the smell of Pop's basement is like no other. It is one of the top five all time absolute best smells EVER. Right up there with the lilac smell of the yard, fresh cut grass, a real wood fire, real lavendar, and Pop's basement. It is a combination of must, cement, rust, motor oil, gas, paint, and what else I just don't know but to me it is just so calming. I really wish I could bottle it or make it into a candle.
Pop's basement is where all the goodies were hidden. The bikes, the sleds, and of course the pool table. We would spend HOURS down there playing pool. Pop is an AWESOME pool player. He can do the whole pool stick behind his back trick while we would just sit on the table and roll the balls in whichever pocket was close. The basement was like one of those magical kingdoms of childhood, full of magic and wonder, where only happy times were had, where we could be kids.
Here is a look into our magic kingdom.
Training Wheels
Check this out
I think we all rode this when we were little.
The clown sprinkler is awesome...Ava gets to experience it this summer.
This hole use to seem like a massive gaping mile wide hole. It was TERRIFYING as a child. I remember back when the washer and dryer were down there and I would go down with Nan and shimmy my way around the opening ever so carefully. I use to think that it was bottomless and if I fell in I would be gone forever.
Here is a great photo of Pop.
Kind of crazy how much my brother looks like Pop.
I really need to ask about that ring. He has always worn that ring.
Next I need to venture up into Nan's attic. A whole other world of magic but more along the line of dolls and hoop skirts and less nuts and bolts. The attic also has a huge gaping hole in the floor that FREAKED me out as a child. What is with the huge holes in the floor???? Yet, another mystery of Nan's and Pop's.
