The magic of the second.., p.1
The Magic of the Second Backyard, page 1
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2024 by K.M. Hasling
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.
ISBN 978-1-0056-1315-0 (ebook)
ISBN 979-8-6819-2501-9 (paperback)
First paperback edition February 2024
www.kmhasling.com
To Mother Nature
who is the magician behind our real second backyard and never gets enough credit for the beautiful things she creates.
Contents
1. The Hole in the Fence
2. The White Robin
3. The Riddling Owl
4. New and Lonely Normal
5. The Deserted Greenhouse
6. A Promise of a Glass Castle
7. An Endless Expanse
8. The Book of Answers
9. Grasshoppers Like Encyclopedias
10. Numbers and Letters
11. Messy Fairy Songs
12. The Pine Tree Staircase
13. Breaking Through the Weeds
14. The Room at the End of the Hall
15. Princess Peach
16. Winning Windows and Losing Answers
17. Captain Magpie
18. The Spectacle Squirrel
19. Trading Reds and Yellows
20. Super Duper Trouble
21. Bringing Spring
22. Waiting at the Gate
23. The Queen of Wonderland
24. Sharing the Magic of the Second Backyard
About the Author
Acknowledgements
The Hole in the Fence
“Would you wake up Mother Nature?” Cassidy complained to the forest. “We need spring to be here! It’s Spring Break, you know.” Cassidy glared at the pine trees. Pine trees were ugly because they had thin branches and never lost their leaves. And while they belonged here in Colorado, she didn’t.
“I’m visiting from Florida,” she told a robin who was futilely searching for lunch on the ground. The robin wasn’t good company. It ignored her by dipped its head like a ballerina and hopping away. “Only for Spring Break, though.”
Cassidy stuffed her hands into her hoodie pocket and longed for the palm trees of home. The truth was Cassidy didn’t know how long Spring Break was going to be. This year was different. She scuffed her shoe toe in the cold dirt. Having bundled up to escape the dreary inside of her dad’s house, outside a chilly breeze blew across the plains and rustled even the big trees. It was miserable for her and the robin.
The robin flew into the upper branches of a blue spruce. Cassidy wandered between the trees, hoping to find something to do. She wanted to find something green. She found a prominent trail that must have been made by a large animal like a deer. Where does the trail go? She wondered, cheering herself up a bit. She followed the path along the barbed wire fence but lost it when it crossed over to the other side. It disappeared into the forest, zigzagging off in both directions with no end and no beginning. Cassidy traced the trail with her eyes, and it sparkled like a magical mirage. “It’s just the sunlight reflecting off the pine needles,” she scolded the wind.
Her mind wanted to believe it was magic. “I bet magic is green,” she told the hiding animals of the forest. “And Mother Nature, queen of the land, would make it green all the time,” she said. But we’re stuck in a winter land, not a wonderland. A dry winter land full of pine trees that are all the same and dead grasses and weeds. Who would want to rule over a place like this?
Cassidy plopped down next to one of the tree trunks and picked at the matted dirt with her fingernail. At this level, Cassidy could see the winter misery up close. The blades of dead grass were nibbled off by the rabbits. Pine needles were swept aside by birds, mice, or squirrels foraging for the one seed that wasn’t eaten among the other torn seed pods. There weren’t any worms for a robin to find yet.
Suddenly, Cassidy heard music playing. It was a wind chime banging together in the wind. Wasn’t it? The wind chime did a full scale, one note at a time, evenly spaced like the wind was learning to play piano.
Do-re-mi-fa-sol-la-ti-do!
A wind chime doesn’t do that on its own.
Then, Cassidy noticed a hole in the barbed-wire fence. The thorny wire looped between fence posts at four levels, and in some places, it crossed itself and caught in a rat’s nest of knots. At this spot, the barbed wire was pulled apart just enough for a fox to slip through. The top strands were twisted together, and the two bottom strands were tangled in the grass, making a circle in the barbed wire fence.
Cassidy got on her hands and knees and crawled closer to the fence opening. The barbed wire was sharp and could tear her clothes or, worse, snag her hair or cut her cheek. Cassidy stuck her head through the opening to judge the size.
Do-re-me-fa-sol-le-te-do.
That was even stranger! Three of the notes were different. A minor scale?
Cassidy pulled back her head and sat on her heels. The wind blew softly in the upper branches, and the trees seemed to whisper, “Go, go!” She listened for the chimes to follow the wind.
Do-re-mi-fa-sol-la-ti-do!
It was coming from the other side of the fence. In fact, Cassidy swore it was coming from the hole in the fence. Cassidy looked at the hole, and the bent barbed wire that circled the opening now beckoned her like a portal. If I duck, I could jump and roll through, she thought. I could fit. Cassidy stuck her head through it again, and the chimes tolled the minor chord again.
She jumped.
The White Robin
Cassidy fell and rolled softly on the ground like she was falling into snow.
Wait. It was snow.
Cassidy looked around her, and the entire world was white. The trees were white, the branches and pine needles were white, and even the ground was white. Cassidy was sitting in a small crater of fluffy white. The impression left from her somersault through the fence was like an abominable snowman’s footprint. She scooped at the snow and poured it out of her hand. It fell like dirt, but it was soft. She tried to pack some of it into a snowball, but it wouldn’t stay together. She blew it into the air, and it sparkled and danced like microscopic snowflakes. Her jacket was covered in white too. It wasn’t cold like snow and wasn’t melting like snow. When she dusted herself off, little particles flew away, yet the whiteness seemed to stay, clinging to her coat.
Looking around this strange winter land, a little, white bird hopped along the ground in the distance. Hop. Then it cocked its head and another hop. The bird saw her and looked at her inquisitively like it was waiting for her to ask it a question. It hopped closer. Cassidy ogled at the bizarre bird who was wearing clothes. The white pants surely would have fallen around the bird’s skinny legs without the belt and suspenders attached to them. The pant legs were wide around the bird’s narrow legs, which looked ridiculous. Self-consciously, Cassidy looked down at her bony legs that she joked were chicken legs. She didn’t look funny in her black leggings compared to this bird.
The bird shook itself, and white dust floated off, but it still looked like it was wearing a white suit coat with the way its tail flicked. Then the bird stared at Cassidy straight on.
“You are early.”
Cassidy’s mouth dropped open in surprise. She knew the bird had spoken to her even though birds don’t usually speak. So, she replied earnestly, “Early to what?”
It came closer, leaving little footprint indentions in the snow that looked like wrinkles. Now at arm’s reach, Cassidy saw the bird had a soft red belly, reminding her of Santa Claus, the way it stuck out above its belt.
“Are you spring?” The white robin asked.
“Spring? I don’t think so.”
“Probably not. Spring doesn’t come early. It comes exactly when the queen is ready for it. Oh!” It exclaimed, dashing after a fleck of snow, snatching at it with its beak. Each snatch exploded the floating speck like a firework, first green, then a second peck, red. And just like a firework, it quickly disappeared. “I missed it. I swear I saw a worm.”
“I’m looking for spring too,” Cassidy agreed. She yearned for winter to be over. “Do you know where it is?”
“You mean you didn’t bring it with you?” The bird tilted its beak, pointing the side of its head at the ground for a closer look at some white pine needles, the tops a washed-out gray color. The bird scratched at a few of them, sending them flying with a twinge of green before they settled to rest.
Cassidy wished spring was something she could just carry around with her. She wanted to see little shoots growing, leaves opening, and flowers smiling. Spring was still weeks away at her dad’s house in Colorado. How far away was it here?
“When does spring usually come?” she asked the white robin.
“I told you. It comes when the queen is ready for it.”
“The queen?” Cassidy asked.
The white robin opened its wings a bit and bobbed its head as if it had stated the obvious and nothing else needed to be said. Then it scurried a good ten paces, plonking a trail of tiny footprints in the snow.
“Wait!” Cassidy cried.
“Why? You don’t know where spring is,” replied the white robin.
“I don’t, but neither do you.”
“I’m not looking for spring. I’m looking for worms.” Cassidy nodded. Spring was not here yet. And in a way, she was looking for it. The bird scratched at the ground again, sending another flurry of white-green strings flying. Cassidy thought it looked hungry. Without spring, it would be hard to find any worms to eat.
“Well, I’ll keep looking for spring on my own then,” she decided.
The white robin shrugged, grabbed its belt, and pulled it higher up around its pink middle.
“Well, you can look for it. But you won’t find it. It’s not here yet.”
“Does spring come through the fence? Like me?” The bird stopped scratching and stared at her. Cassidy stared back. She wasn’t a worm, and staring was rude.
“How should I know?” The bird must have decided the conversation was done because it flew away without another word.
“Well, isn’t that nice. That bird doesn’t know anything!” But Cassidy had a funny feeling the robin knew something about spring she didn’t. Cassidy knew nothing about this magical white forest.
Cassidy searched with her peripheral vision for a flutter of color of another critter, hoping to catch a rustle or shiver. Unfortunately, as far as she could tell, she was alone in the white world. When she turned fully around, she saw the fence. But it was different on this side. With neat wide planks, the white picket fence went off in both directions. And the hole in the fence was different too. It was a portal! She could see through to the bark of the pine trees and the rocks and dirt on the other side. Encircling the opening was a snowstorm. The white snow flowed around it but never into it. The contrast between the white woods and the dark of her dad’s house was dramatic due to the colors in Colorado. Browns and blacks. Tans and yellows. Purples and blues.
“Isn’t that weird!” She exclaimed. She wondered why the colors didn’t spill over and fill in the white forest like a coloring book. Cassidy repeated to herself what the white robin said. “The robin asked if I brought spring with me. How do I do that?”
The Riddling Owl
“How do you bring spring?”
Cassidy thought her own thoughts were being said aloud. But it was not her own voice. Cassidy stood up from the mesmerizing colors of the portal and turned around expecting another person or talking animal but no one was there. She put her hands on her hips, and spoke to the empty air.
“Yes; that’s what I was thinking. Is spring there?” She pointed to Colorado on the other side of portal.
“There is here. Here is there.” The voice replied. Where was it coming from? Behind? Above?
“Those aren’t the same,” Cassidy argued. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“Depends on your point of view. I’m here. You’re there.”
Cassidy imagined the voice was pointing at themselves and then at her, but she still didn’t see anyone. “Well, where are you?”
“Ah, where am I? That is a good question! I’m where you can’t see yet.”
The voice sounded like it swooped right behind her. As it passed by her, a gust brushed her loose hair.
“Where are you? I can hear you, but I can’t see you!” she repeated.
“Well, you aren’t looking in the right place.”
“Where should I look for you then? Where is the right place to look?”
“You already asked that,” the voice yawned.
This time the voice sounded like it was coming from the tree in front of her. Cassidy circled the tree, looking up at the white branches. It was void of leaves in winter, and Cassidy could see straight through to the sky. Was the tree talking to her?
“Ah, now that is good. Look at the problem. Explore all the angles for yourself.”
Cassidy huffed. She saw nothing! Nothing but white snow on a white tree against a white sky.
“You aren’t going to find the answer you’re looking for, though,” the voice yawned again. Was it bored with her?
“What do you mean by that?”
No answer.
“Hello?”
No answer. Cassidy squinted at the tree branches, hoping her new friend hadn’t left her alone like the white robin. She saw a few rainbows in her peripheral vision, the colors dancing like a soap bubble. She couldn’t pinpoint where they were coming from.
“Do you know the white robin?”
No answer.
“Hello? Are you going to help me or not? Where are you?” she shouted.
“Hm? Oh, I’m sorry. I was asleep. I’m tired.”
“Why are you tired?”
“Well, it is so bright out. It makes me tired.”
“But it’s the middle of the day!”
“Exactly!”
Cassidy didn’t understand the riddles this invisible creature was telling her. She tried one of her questions again.
“How can I see you?”
“Ah, now that is a good question!”
Cassidy waited for the voice to continue, to give her an answer, but she was welcomed by more silence. She kicked at the snow, watching a few fireworks sparkle in the air and disappear.
“You are close, you know. Awfully close. Some might say too close to the problem to see the answer.”
What was this creature saying? Cassidy kicked at the snow some more because watching the colors sparkle seemed to help her from getting angry. The tiny spits of color disappeared before they reached the ground again, blue and green.
“Mm-hm,” the voice sounded like it was nodding, either in agreement or falling asleep again. Cassidy grabbed some snow and flung it into the air toward the tree.
Surprisingly, the colored fireworks didn’t explode in straight circles like before. Instead, they seemed to fall around one of the branches in an outline. The snow didn’t settle on anything, and soon the shape was gone, the snow sparkles melting and disappearing just as they appeared. Cassidy thought it looked like an outline of a bird…
“You’re an owl!” she exclaimed.
“Hm!” Startled awake, the owl replied. “Oh yes, very good. So I am.”
“I’m sorry to disturb your sleep, Owl.”
“Yes, yes,” the owl agreed.
“Is there another way to see you? I don’t think I should throw snow at you if you’re sleeping.”
“Yes. Please don’t do that,” the owl yawned. “If you want to see me, you have to look at me the right way.”
“The right way? But—”
“Yes!” the owl said emphatically. “Or the left way. It doesn’t matter which.”
“How do I do that?”
“Use your eye.”
“I am using my eyes,” Cassidy argued.
“That’s not what I said, so you must not be,” said the owl.
“Use my… eye?” Cassidy said; she closed her eyes like she did when looking for the portal.
“Are you falling asleep on me now?” The owl mocked her. Cassidy’s eyes snapped back open. The owl tutted at her. “No, no, no. Think. Listen.”
Cassidy didn’t know what the owl meant. She brushed her hair behind her ear. She tilted her head at the empty white branch. She cupped a hand behind her ear, but she didn’t see or hear anything new.
The owl yawned.
“Look or don’t. But I caution you against looking while thinking or thinking without looking.”
Cassidy felt like a pretzel with her head and arms at peculiar angles and she knew she looked ridiculous. But she believed there was something the owl knew that she didn’t and she wanted to know.
She closed one eye like a pirate in a periscope.
“Oh!” Cassidy exclaimed, throwing her arms out and her head up.
“Now, you see. You must look for yourself. Without the rules and boundaries you have given yourself.”
Cassidy could see. It was wondrous. Everything in Wonderland was colorful like they were the origin of the fireworks. The tree was an amber-yellow color, with rings of copper that shimmered like jewelry. The tree was now covered in leaves. The vivid green branches were almost psychedelic, each leaf quivering like it was ready to sneeze. The grasses at her feet were an ombre of green. The base of each blade of grass was a soft and fuzzy aquamarine like a caterpillar and deepening to a rich emerald velvet on the tips. Like whiskers on kittens, the grasses were happy and curious in the wind. They would have leapt up and danced if they weren’t rooted in the soil. Like minuscule coins of lead, iron, and graphite, the earth was a mixture of colorful sprinkles everywhere, like a pot of soup or freckles on a giant foot.
