From the Dirt in My Hands to the Soil Beneath My Feet

Tithonias and cosmos share the foreground, while a sunflower looms above them

The Lake Is a Pond

As a young person, I roamed freely, as did most other children, cats, and dogs in my neighborhood. We were free-range before that term was ever applied to chickens. At the center of our upper middle-class neighborhood, there was a lake. A pond, really, but we called it a lake, so that’s what I grew up believing a lake to be. I lived in a big house with a big yard. Wooded, undeveloped land abutted our property. It was “The Woods,” just as the pond was “The Lake.”

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