The light in our backyard during summer evenings is just plain dreamy. In a season (summer) and a location (the desert) where the sun usually beats down relentlessly, most photos are flat and whitewashed. But, add trees, slanted light and a sprinkler, and I’m almost getting that fall-golden hour vibe.

We love our yard. In the middle of the sage brush, we’re covered in trees and lush green. It’s decent sized for houses around here, about a third of an acre, but as I watched the kids run yesterday, I realize that, to them, it must feel like it goes on forever. Their long legs reach out and pump at full speed until they are tired. Back and forth. Round and round. Over and over again.

When I visit some of my past homes, of which I have many, I always leave with a slightly melancholy feeling that they are smaller than I remember (I submit that everyone does this, right? Occasionally knocks on a familiar door just to take a peak inside. Strolls slowly around a nostalgic yard, creating a Memory Lane… Andy says absolutely not. But I certainly have…many times!)

And my own children are showing me why I’m left with that shrunken feeling- it was I, not the places, that was small. But those houses, those yards… they made giant memories.

So, I love to watch them run, to use and explore every inch. To spend hours catching rolly pollys, dumping water on each other, laying in a clover patch studying the clouds.

Especially in this time, when we can’t go many other places, I’m giving thanks for our own backyard.

Our oasis.