Some of the happiest memories I have from my childhood involves me playing outside. And the best of these are playing on bales at precisely this time of year. It was fun, it was tiring, it was illegal, it was fairly dangerous, but boy was it great. Summer nights coming to a close, a range of ages of boys, always boys, building and climbing and chasing and even looking out for the farmer; in it together against a common foe. It was excellent for the few years it lasted and clearly made an impression.