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  • There is something magical about gardens and especially the grandmas' gardens. Far away from parental control kids like to hide between flowers, vegetables and trees. So did I like it when I was a child.

    We had our little “house” made out of planks awkwardly nailed together. My dad would have done it better. However, as an adult he was not allowed to cross the doorstep. Those were the rules, our rules.

    I cannot remember what we were doing all days long. There was something though which I will always recall. It is the neighbor's house. Well, not the building itself but the basement and especially its little window.

    Three barrels stuck out of it ready to fire at us. We were ready to counterattack as well. We were waiting for hours holding sticks in our hands and creating stories on who was about to attack us.

    Those were no barrels of course and we were no soldiers. I know that because I am grown up. That is why the adults were not allowed to visit our little garden house.
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