Hidden behind an arbor made of the boughs of an Easter Pine and a Coral-Barked Maple tree, the side yard of our house, behind the wooden fence, is one of the relatively uninhabited and unused sections of our small property. It comes into prominence mostly at this time of the year, when the sun slants prettily through the oak leaves and the maple lights up its corner with a brilliant show of bright chartreuse color, echoing its spring emergence in one of those parallels only nature can conjure without seeming trite.
In this space, the sun can bake the ground a bit when it’s clear during the day, and the scent of pine needles and pine cones rises like a batch of potpourri emblematic of a cozy fall day. I favor this place at this time of the year, and I pause here in my daily ambulations, taking in the afternoon light, the fading warmth of the year.
