Necessary to a happy childhood.
I had plenty. It was always so dry (the desert itself was in the throes of drought). The grass was tough and yellow; it hurt me to walk around barefoot. I did occasionally, and everytime was stung.
It was wet enough out to find pollywogs in ditches and puddles, and wet enough to know the sweet sting of chlorine in my nose.

There was an empty lot next to my house; literal-minded as we were, we called it the Dirt Hills. A good half-acre of dusty bike trails and sagebrush; this is where all the shit went down.
Cat fights, involving both human and feline species.
I saw the neighborhood bully spit tobacco into the dirt; at the time, I didn't know what he was doing. I murdered stinkbugs, rather cruelly, yes.
Built snowforts, weather permitting.
I sang,
"Nobody likes me
Everybody hates me
Think I'll go eat worms
This is where Brandon hit my ass with a stick he found.