My childhood was quite an unusual and interesting one (read: fun). Some might even say amazing. I spent much of it learning unconventional things from a true-to-life DIY'er, my dad. He has challenges like anyone else, but despite the looming roadblocks, he always finds creative and innovative ways around problems, to this day. If you're wondering, yes that is me in the photo, at around age ten I think.
One memory in particular that stands out in my mind was the time when we moved into a split-level home in a decent neighborhood amidst the temperamental spring-time weather. Oddly enough, the previous owner of our home had never taken care of the backyard very well, which contained an ornate Japanese-style garden complete with a large 12 foot square (approx.) pagoda we called "the shed."
Next to the shed was a rock about three feet in diameter if I remember right, which we affectionately dubbed "the meteorite." Even stranger, was an irregularly shaped concrete Japanese fish pond with severely chipped paint set down into the yard about two feet deep or so, right next to "the meteorite." Beyond the pond, there was yard of overgrown grass all the way to the other side of the yard, which featured a dying pear tree and grape vines that actually had seeded grapes in summertime.
The problem with this ill-kept former Japanese shrine of a backyard was that my father (being the handy DIY'er that he is) wanted a garage to further his evil plot of DIY world domination or something, as any self-respecting DIY'er in America would. The shed, the meteorite, and the pond were all squarely in the way of building a garage at the end of our driveway on the right side of the house.