My Grandpa had a bird feeder that stood on a carpet of vines in front of an old window, between a tall pine and an old umbrella tree.
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We once again found ourselves among the olive groves of the Italian countryside, admiring the pops of color of the wildflowers, the earthy colors of the tiny towns, and the seasonal spring menus.
We pulled our kids from the house for a much-needed long evening drive in the country during the worldwide pause, at the beginning of the pandemic.
One summer around age six or seven, it became my mission to catch a butterfly. I wanted nothing more than to accomplish this seemingly impossible task.
The tree line at the edge of our lawn when I was a kid was the start-line to many of my favorite childhood adventures.
