I grew up in the middle of No Where, some where between Here and There, until I was about 9.
Life was not all that much fun unless you were either reading or running. I did a lot of both. Usually by myself since the nearest family with kids was a 30 minute walk in the wrong direction. Those younger then 9 were not allowed to go on their own and the older sisters liked the boys that lived in the right direction.
So I had to find a good place to run to then I could read in peace. The bridge was perfect. It covered a creek that wasn’t much bigger then a trickle most of the time. It sounded great. Not too loud as to cover the other great natural noise but not so quiet that the world got spooky. And it sparkled prettier then a diamond tennis bracelet. Wonderful spot.
The only draw back was how I had to get there. I had to cross three Donnelly fence lines. Two of them surrounded Max, their bull. They had to be electric fences.
I was a small thin little thing before the kids gave me hips, boobs, and a bum. That meant I could squeeze through most any thing. As long as I was careful I didn’t end up with barb wire scratches. Not that it would have mattered since I loved that little bridge.
Now the red nasty looking X’s that my back bore most of the long summer months could have been a show stopper. But they weren’t. Crossing the pasture didn’t bother me in the least when I could spend hours running away into books of all sorts, meeting up with long time friends in far off places.