On the train back from Toronto after my doctor’s appointment, I stare out the window at the backyards. They are long, some are unkempt, each different with gardens or kids’ toys or dogs or junk piled high. I love this. I wish our backyards out here were more like this, full of stuff, skinny and meandering, some messy, all individual. The houses are different shapes and colours and sizes. I wish the train would go slower so I could more carefully inspect.Print
Our neighbours behind us have an amazing backyard rink.
They have strung white plastic sheets across each fence bordering the rink. On windy days, the white sheet they have strung on the back fence blows over onto our side. I wash dishes and read advertising and watch it blow in the wind, stubbornly hanging onto the ropes that attach it.
It gets very windy where we are. The house shakes. I have a compulsive need to check our roof shingles every day.Print