Sublime

And so before the summer was over, we gave up. The kids were too busy indulging their new selves and quit playing make-believe out in the woods. And Gretchen and I were lost in our private worlds of self-disgust and conjugal disharmony. By Christmas we’d forgotten about the portal, and the clearing began to fill in. We did what people do: we heaved

Leigh’s elm, Jean’s ash, Emmett’s ironwood, and Adam’s maple, each made from identical green puffballs.

he’s as generous and eager as weeds.

Basho,

A Thousand-Mile Walk to the Gulf

his life, he has been homesick.

Richard Powers

The Old Man and the Sea,

My First Summer in the Sierra