Yard
I've developed a deep love for my backyard. The front yard, I have a good, solid liking for. But the backyard, well, that is true love.

It's not a spectacular yard, by any means. It's larger than small, but not huge. Takes less than an hour to trim and mow.

I don't have a lot of plants or bushes back there, but the ones I do have decided they like me enough to turn green and bloom in a variety of colors over the past few weeks.

I have one giant oak/pecan/maple/something tree, almost exactly in the middle of the yard. It provides a blanket of shade all over the yard for most of the day.

I also have a giant fig tree in the back corner, home to birds and figs alike.

It's quite peaceful in the yard. I live in a quiet neighborhood, so I can sit outside on my patio, engulfed in the sounds of nature. Relaxing, being one with said nature. I've even caught myself sitting out there smiling. For no good reason at all.

I come home every evening that I can get home while it's still daylight, and I take a walking tour of the backyard. One, to check for critter activity. But I wander around mostly just to enjoy my yard. I've never had land before. I've never had trees and bushes and plants that aren't dead. I've never had green grass soft enough so that I can walk through it barefoot.

The weather is now cool enough, and the days still just long enough so that I can get in some quality backyard time before heading inside for the night most days. I look forward to this time everyday. I'm anxious to get home, to my yard, just to enjoy it.

Now, if I could just figure out how to remove each and every bug that buzzes and bites me despite my wall of Citronella flame, it would be a complete haven of rest and solace.

C.T.