The Big Backyard

   Though we walked by this spot a hundred times in the summer, I never noticed the nest.  I never heard the music of the …

  The ears twitch, and I catch the movement out of the corner of my eye.  I have to look a long time before I …

As the temperature falls, crunch becomes squeak.  I am sure there is an explanation for this, but right now I don’t care to hear it.  …

Alder, pin cherry, hawthorn, maple, birch—a thousand saplings bow their heads low over the paths as if they would pay homage to all who travel …

I have worked hard all year to see the evidence of human incursions onto this land in the same way as the other wild creatures …

The snow tells stories of the living woods and all the animals that travel here.  The well-trodden paths that in summer are discernible only to …

  Underneath the snow, the ice is as clear and as smooth as glass.  Crouching beside the track, I look through winter backwards to last …

I have always wondered why hunters wear blazing orange for safety in the autumn woods.  They walk like dryads through the forest, the leaves/their sleeves …

The woods are at a mid-way point in their transition from summer to winter.  Half the leaves are still on the trees, blazing colour; the …

The dog dances in the downpour, alternating between her own uncontainable excitement and a persistent confusion about why I, her human, have suddenly chosen to …