Behind the Puddle
The stories behind the stories, reflections on the patio, the puddle, accessibility, home, writing, and the unexpected ways a small place can change how we experience our lives and the world around us.
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It Was Still Worth Coming Outside
There are days when going outside feels like a simple decision, and there are days when it feels like something I have to negotiate with my own body. Today was one of those days. I was hurting more than usual, walking was difficult, sitting was not especially comfortable, and I was already tired before the… Continue reading
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The Same Puddle, Different Needs
This morning the Green Heron stood toward the back of the puddle where a little more water remains, while our new Solitary Sandpiper walked through the exposed shallows closer to shore. They were occupying the same puddle at the same time, but they were not looking for the same thing. One needed enough water and… Continue reading
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Solitary Sandpiper | September Migrant Visitor
At first, I thought the little bird standing in the puddle was simply another reminder of how shallow the water has become. It was so small compared to the geese, herons, and mallards I am used to watching that it almost disappeared into the algae-covered shallows. Then it moved, and I realized I was looking… Continue reading
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The Days I Watch From the Window
We built the patio because getting outside had become harder than it needed to be. We solved the steps, the uneven ground, and the question of whether there would be a safe place for me to sit. What we could not solve was the unpredictability of a body that sometimes simply says no. Yesterday was… Continue reading
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Close Enough to Notice
This morning I was watching our little neighborhood chippy move through the grass, stopping now and then as though whatever it was doing made perfect sense to it. I love watching the creatures that visit Behind the Puddle. I notice where they go, what they seem to prefer, when they return, and sometimes when something… Continue reading
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Be It Known That
Yesterday my mom gave me something she had found while sorting through photographs and keepsakes. It was a plaque from my dad’s belongings, a Ford certification recognizing Dick Neal as an active member of the Certified Training Program and a Registered Technician. I remember only two places where my dad worked during the seven short… Continue reading
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Behind the Puddle | The Summer I Learned to See
On May 2, Brian dug out a little piece of ground for me. It was maybe four feet by five feet, just enough level space to move my chair and table downstairs so I could sit outside when I wanted to. There was no patio yet. There was no Behind the Puddle, and there were… Continue reading
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Behind the Puddle | Thank You, August
Thank you, August. You weren’t the beginning. By the time you arrived, the patio already felt like mine. The birds knew where the feeders were. Pinecone had already introduced themselves and apparently added our yard to the regular dining rotation. Stella and Stanley had become familiar shapes along the puddle. Shelly had already taught us… Continue reading
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They Came Back Again
Yesterday, the feeders were unusually quiet. There were still a few visitors here and there, but nothing like the steady movement I had grown used to seeing throughout the summer. I found myself watching the empty perches and wondering if maybe we had reached the beginning of that seasonal change when the birds start coming… Continue reading
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Twelve More Candles
My birthday is coming up, and because I have Hadley on Monday mornings before school, her mom apparently gave her a little assignment. She told her that if she did not want to buy me twelve more candles, she should probably ask Grandma for some birthday ideas. That made me laugh before Hadley even got… Continue reading
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