It’s 28 degrees outside, gray and chilly and slightly damp, but with the forecast projecting a low of -8 and a high of 9, 28 degrees is actually my “window of warmth” to take this trampoline down. I’ve been staring out from my family room into the backyard at our family’s most treasured play item, knowing this task was on the list for a few weeks. Today my weather app is reminding me that there is no time like the present.
I head outside with my warm coat, gloves, and green knit hat–a sweet gift from a friend in my favorite color, handmade to make me feel extra loved. Right away I realize I cannot get the net untied with gloves on, so off they go, which is a bummer, considering the temperature. I unwrap the black rope cord one slot at a time from the trampoline mat it is attached to, in and out, in and out, all the way around until the bottom of the net is free. Then I climb on the frame and start with the six knots at the top of the poles holding it up, let each one loose one section at a time, and soon, the net is free. I lay it out on the ground and fold it up as tight as I can, and wrap it in a bungee cord so it is easy to transport. My teeth are chattering and my nose is running, so I stop here, and head inside to warm the fingers I can barely feel before I have to go back out to take down the metal frame.
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The trampoline was a hand-me-down from friends, and we were so excited when they offered it to us because it was three feet bigger than the one we owned before. Three full feet! With six kids, every foot matters. We picked it up one summer evening at our friends’ house, and once we put the kids to bed, brought it out to the backyard to set it up so the kids would have something to look forward to in the morning. Pacific Northwest summers offer a blissful amount of light long into the night, and we thought we had plenty of time to figure out each piece, to build something solid enough for twelve little legs to enjoy.
Our big, already well-loved trampoline did not come with instructions–as some of the biggest things in life don’t–so we had to put these pieces together with a bit of trial and error. “If that goes there, what is the black plastic piece for?” one of us would ask.
“I don’t know, it feels pretty solid without it,” the other would say back. This was, historically, right on brand for how we had always put things together in our marriage–speculation, best guesses, perhaps a misunderstanding of how much help we might need–which only now can I see the potential long term problems with.
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