I had two grandmas with two houses. My grandma on my dad's side lived in the middle of the village, off the road and near the fields she and her husband had tended together before he passed away. My grandma on my mother's side had the very last house in the village (in the picture). The house that I grew up in was actually the "new" house that was built right next the the "old" house, whose part was later used as a summer kitchen. I still remember one room in that house where my great-grandma kept an old stone mill and a wooden machine that cleaned the dry corn kernels from the shank. It was so old and so magical. I can still hear the rattling when I think about it.
Our house was right next to the road. We loved playing on that road because it was asphalty, warm and smooth so it was really easy to draw on. Back in the 1980s and the 1990s, there were very few cars in that part of Slovakia and if some lazy loner did pass by, we always heard it first. We yelled: "A car!" and cleared off the road. After it passed, we were back on it.
We didn't need to buy chalk for our masterpieces, though. There was (and still is) a small stream running all along the village, hemming the houses. In that stream we would find colorful stones and use them to draw. I don't remember us doing it but my mom recalls her and her friends competing about who would find the brightest or the best looking stone, and also lying on the warm road in summer.
There is no way my kids can do that now. The drivers are reckless and they don't slow down before entering the village at that end. Or any end, for that matter, because children don't play on the road anymore.