When our family lived in the city, we were within walking distance of a number of public playgrounds, including a little one by a sweet duck pond, and another nestled on the sandy beach of a marina. Since moving to the woods in the Southeast, we’re now a 15 minutes drive from any similar play structure for our kids, ages 7 and 3.
Given the ample acreage we’re enjoying courtesy of our multigenerational setup, there is plenty of outdoor space for a playground set. But outdoor accessories overheat and age swiftly in the stifling humidity and intense temperatures of this region, and I doubt that a Florida-weathered playground would be in any sort of condition to hand down to another child once our little ones outgrow it.
As such, I’ve never entertained the idea of buying or constructing a large, formal playground set like the ones I see in so many nearby yards. The prospect feels beyond my budget and bandwidth, as well as a bit frivolous. Because even though we live out in the middle of nowhere, I am (still) a firm believer that we don’t all need one of everything for ourselves. And even when sharing isn’t an option, we can ignore those eerily targeted ads for things we’ve fooled ourselves into thinking we need and get creative instead, right?
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