Cubbys, Cuby’s, Cubbies? What is the plural here?????

Bil, Middle Sister, Dan and My Hut, aka, our Cubby in its building phase!

Bil, Middle Sister, Dan, and My Hut, aka, our Cubby, in its building phase!

Today seen our crew madly scrambling for a pickup of some awesome steel that was listed on our local buy and sell page.

As we have a fishing hut north of here, we are always chasing iron, steel and such, to further our expansions. Between us there’s anywhere from 6 adults, 7 children, 4 dogs, 3 boats, and 5 cars at any given time, so we need plenty of room!

Anyway, as Dan and Bil loaded up the spoils and I waited for Middle Sister to return with the broom, I was sweeping years of dirt, leaves and general natural debris from the iron, first with my feet, then with a branch broom, and I got I thinking of cubby houses.

Man I loved cubby houses growing up!

Living in a town surrounded by bush (Tieri), it was only natural that all the native children would live out amongst the wildlife.

And we did.

If we weren’t hunting for “lost” (found) baby birds to take home and “raise”(inadvertently kill), then we were setting up club houses, or cubby’s out of anything we could find!

If you were super lucky and capable, you could knock yourself up a ripper of a safe house!

If you were less lucky and capable, but full of imagination, you could still knock yourself up a ripper of safe house.

Win, win!!

In my time, I had countless under trampoline cubby’s, a dug out bush cubby, a few imagination only, Barb wire fence + tarp, trees, blanket and picnic cubby, and the Pièce de résistance, a 4 trees cubby.

This bad boy had a roof made of branches, a floor of carpet offcuts, branch room divider, and cooking utensils!!! Not that we used them for actual eating. But plenty of imaginary meals were cooked.

I used to sweep the “lounge room” with my leafy branch broom, and just loved going there every afternoon.

I am wringing the neck of my younger self with my grown up feminist hands right now, I tell you. Lucky I wasn’t making pretend cookies for the boys while I was there, or there would be real trouble.

Anyway, our dug out cubby was in a gully just next door to the flashy cubby, and was surrounded by marsh reeds.

We called it the fluff ball factory.

The fact it was in a gully, was why there were so many reeds. And the namesake was from the reeds.

We would fluff out the stalks of the reeds and make cushy, plush carpet from them.

AWESOME!!! (And terribly lucky no one had asthma)

It was also a top spot for tadpole catching in summer.

And fairy watching.

Whole ‘nother post right there.

Anyway, one day, some little punks (who I do dearly love, and will always remember as being shy, quiet little boys, jokes on me apparently), put a match to our fluff ball factory. Must have been winter when he reeds were nice and dry, and the whole gully  “accidentally” went up in flames.

No more fluff balls, no more reeds, no more cubby.

But by gosh, it was quite the fire!

The 4 tree cubby also went up in the melee.

Ah well.

The gully could never be destroyed.

And lasted throughout my childhood.

Push bike stacks, and motorbike thrills were had there.

And frogs, toads, and fairies still made babies there. So all was not lost.

So parents, even if it’s in the back yard, or under the kitchen table, I think every kid needs a cubby.

And if your one of them show off, fancy kids with actual wall and roof bush cubby’s, please know the hate I held for you stemmed purely from cubby envy.

Any cubby is a good cubby.

Build on young dreamers, build on.


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