Page 109 - Anonymous
P. 109
STANDING on the porch outside my
kitchen door, I watch the stretching
landscape before me. I water my potted
plants and take a deep breath in. The
crisp morning breeze has a slight chill to
it. Droplets of water coat the earth after
the rain last night. I love the smell of the
dirt after a good rain. Gracie's swing set
sits in the corner of the garden, and her
treehouse is right above it, built in an old
maple tree.
