We Live Here.
I had so many special hideouts in nature growing up – tucked behind the boughs of Grandma’s weepy plum tree, under the cedar beside the frog pond on Huckleberry Lane, on the cool patch of grass inside the heady lilac thicket. Perhaps you did, too. Treehouses never quite captivated me the way a quiet spot beneath a live tree could. In first grade, I would frequently get in trouble for wandering far from the playground into the woods by myself, and for bringing back leaves and pebbles for safekeeping in …
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