When I was about 10 or 11, we sold our two-story Victorian home and moved out to the country. The place we bought had a house, a mobile home, a garage, an old unused outhouse, some animal pens and coops and a big shed. The people who lived there before us, pretty much just took what they wanted and left most of the outbuildings full of stuff.
This was heaven for a kid, it gave me a lot to explore that first spring and summer there. The outhouse had a real toilet in it and a claw-footed tub (that eventually got moved into the house & put to use), but none of it was plumbed. The garage had wallpaper in it and closets, it looked like someone had lived in it, or intended to at some point. The big shed was a treasure trove for me, it seemed to have everything from restaurant order pads to old golf clubs, and everything in between, just aching to fuel my young imagination. And it did. Some days I was a waitress, others a gold pro, a farmer, or a mechanic.
Eventually my brother took a bunch of the old windows out of the shed and built me a tree house next to it in the black walnut tree. It was an awesome tree house and a dream come true foe me, even though I was a little too old for it at that point and really spent more time lying on the roof of the shed reading by then. Sometimes I really miss that old place and the times I spent there. I think my kids would have loved it.