The Big Backyard

The edges of leaves dried out and curled; rivers ran thinly over grey stones; brooks dried to damp patches in the fields. Flower petals shook …

Even though it is early morning, the wind blows a fierce heat through the trees, and dry leaves rattle on thin branches.  We keep to …

At the beginning of June the paths and clearings were carpeted in thousands of tiny white blossoms, but we were kept away from the berries …

Everywhere I look these days there are mushrooms: yellow and white and brown and red, squat and gangly, glistening and dusty—a hundred varieties, and almost …

The ants gather and protect the aphids, and milk them of honeydew.  In the winter, they will carry the aphid eggs back to their underground …

There is a rut in the road that has been wet all summer—sometimes it is filled with murky water three or four inches deep, sometimes …

For months I have been walking past an oak on the hill path, looking up among the tops of spruces to search vainly for the …

Amidst an abundance of green, a few russet leaves wave languidly.  I think about how difficult it is not to anticipate, to be in the …

I find the aged remnants of human life compelling.  Surrounded by trees thirty feet tall, the rusted can appears on a path I am sure …

The dog plays a game with rocks and water.  It is her favourite game, and involves the humans throwing endless stones—not too big and not …