Columns by Terri Simon

I love my backyard. An inordinate amount of time, energy and money has turned into a haven that soothes my soul and erases the woes of the world. Whether I enjoy the backyard from my deck, wandering through the flowers, tree and shrubs, or even aboard the John Deere as I mow the lawn — my backyard represents a side of my life that offers peace, tranquility and silence.

Sometimes when she isn’t looking, I watch her. That’s right ... I study her. I’ve known her since the moment I took my first breath — even before, but I don’t want to miss a thing.

I was going through a box of old things the other day, and the familiar handwriting of my grandfather caught my attention. My grandfather has been gone for more than 30 years, and I found it interesting his scrawl across the front of an envelope still registered in my memory. I pulled the yellowed envelope from the box, and I opened the somewhat brittle paper inside of it.