Not All Playgrounds are the Same

The tall sapless trees are scarred by the chiselled rings around their girths. They stand rotting in place, slowly drying out unable to pull any moisture from the soil. The ground is strewn with fallen branches snapped by the wind, leaving behind bony like protuberances.

Photographer Unknown, Cubby house building, Brucknell, Victoria Australia, circa 1939[b067]

Four children play in the remains of a huge tree, a single stump lying upended in a cleared patch of ground. The flatsawn surface of the trunk is partially rammed into the soil like a crashing rocket. The roots follow behind like tail fins, the loose bark pulled away, stubs are all that remain of its large roots. 

The stump has been transformed as the centrepiece of a fort. Split lengths of dried wood and sheaths of bark lean against either side of the upended stump to create lean-to rooms. Strewn in front are lengths of bark, a welcome mat that stretches across the front.

Holding the camera the photographer has arranged the children, in an effort to accomplish a sense of balance and harmony. Warrick on his haunches leans against the exterior of the fort wall, his head slightly tilted forward as he peers up at the camera. Sitting to his left an older boy, Jeff, leans back against the stump. He fills the makeshift rectangular doorway. His body facing Warrick but his head swivelled, as instructed, to face the camera. Judy, the only girl sits alone occupying the smaller triangular opening, her arms clasped around her knees. She squints at the photographer, waiting for the interruption to end so that work can continue on more important matters.

Sitting on top of the entire structure the last boy sits looking down from his vantage point as though commanding all that he can see.

This post is part of  Sepia Saturday 504 : Saturday 25 January 2020