The Tire Swing by Shirle Reade
It was her spot. Not as secret or hidden as she might have wanted, only out of ear shot not out of sight, but hers nonetheless. Her coat lay in a puddle of bright bubble gum pink, forgotten, amongst the cool grass and wet leaves. Her mother had insisted she wear it today. Perhaps, needing to feel in control of something, as mothers often do, but the likely hood of her disobedience being discovered was slim. So she chanced it. Because her mother didn’t understand, today was perfect. The sun was warm where it touched her with it’s dappled light, and though the wind was cold its bite was intermittent. As the frosty air blew back her long chestnut pigtail braids she smiled at the blue sky and its heavy clouds. Because it was fall, and from her tire swing perch life was perfect.
b00kreader 
Small intransigences are some of the great pleasures of life.
And bubble gum pink, such a fey color: so perfect, so child-like.
As this scene reminds me so much of my own great childhood love, swinging, I thank you for the compliment.
I am a huge fan of description heavy fiction…set me a scene and let it drip with words so rich and satisfying I forget I have only read it 😉
The little protests – the budding assertions of independent thought and behaviour. We’ve all walked that path.
LIfe was perfect – that’s lovely.
Thank you Eric! Perfection is so subjective, but from the eyes of a child the beauty of the simplistic seems so much more evident.