This is my parents’ backyard. This is the magical place where my sister and I rolled and played and made up stories. We pretended to be Olympians on the swing set–practicing a sport that never caught on. This is where we watched for the rotund groundhog who popped his head up year after year. We named him “Chubs.” See that skinning pine near the center? I planted that with my Grandma Kitty when I was very small. It is taller than all of us now. This yard is a carpet of soft moss under a canopy of trees. The sun comes through in a twinkly sort of way that I was thrilled to capture in this photograph. I love this place.
We are deep in the hunt for our new home now, and I guess part of me is always searching for the yard of my childhood. I’m looking for the green and the sunlight, and mostly, the quiet. I’m looking for a place for imaginations to thrive and God’s glory to shine. I’m looking for the magic.