She skittered out from under the couch and immediately decided my shoelace was a mortal enemy. I was on the floor at 11:13 p.m., knees cold on the wood, trying to coax a kitten who had the audacity to hiss the first time she tasted canned food. Someone outside on Fullerton yelled at a cab, a El...
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The carrier door clicked closed and my heart did that stupid, fast flip it does when I buy expensive shoes online. It was 2:07 pm, rain still misting the windshield on Lake Shore Drive, and the kitten—tiny tufted ears, paws too big for its body, breathing like it was counting the breaths of an...
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I was on my knees in the dirt at 5:12 yesterday afternoon, elbow-deep in a patch of stubborn clay under the big oak, when my neighbor honked from the driveway of the two-storey across the street. The afternoon traffic on Lakeshore Road had that usual slow drone, kids were biking past with one...
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I am sitting on the back steps, still smelling gasoline from the roto-tiller and tasting dust on my lips, watching a lone dandelion win its quiet war against the patch of “lawn” under the big oak. It rained last night in Mississauga, the kind of steady, gray rain that makes Lakeshore traffic crawl...
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Sitting in the idling car on Hurontario at 3:12 PM, rain still dripping from the roof rack, I realized I had just agreed to let three different people stomp through my backyard in the next week. My phone buzzed with an email quote while a bus groaned past and a cyclist yelled something at a...
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I was kneeling in damp dirt at 7:30 last night, flashlight wedged between my teeth like a terrible gardening headlamp, trying to pry a tuft of moss out from under the oak roots. The streetlights on Lorne Park were doing that orange wash over the driveway, cars went by with that tired Mississauga...
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I was kneeling in the dirt with a bag of premium grass seed open at my feet, a half-empty cup of coffee gone cold on the steps, watching the last sliver of sun disappear behind the big oak. The oak that has been quietly winning the turf war in my backyard for three years. My hands were gritty, my...
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I was kneeling in mud at 7:15 a.m., coffee gone cold in the mug holder, staring at a rectangle of stubborn dirt under the big oak that has lived in my backyard since before we moved in. The ground smelled like last night’s rain and leaf mold. Neighbourhood traffic on Lakeshore Road was starting...
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My boots were caked with afternoon mud and I was squinting across a yard that looked like it had lost a fight with the February wind. It was 4:17 PM, the sky over Lorne Park had that thin, late-winter light, and my big oak tree had won: a dead circle of compacted soil and weeds sat under its...
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I was kneeling in muck that smelled faintly of wet leaves and old dog food, counting the bare patches under the big oak like they were battle scars. It was 6:30 in the morning, the GO train had already hissed by and the Mississauga traffic on Hurontario was starting to buzz, and I still had dirt...
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I was kneeling in the dirt at 7:12 p.m., shirt muddied, cheeks stinging from wind that smelled faintly of lake water and pizza from a delivery bike passing on Lakeshore Road. A squirrel watched from the low branch of the big oak like it owned the place. My backyard under that oak looked exactly...
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Muttering to myself, I was kneeling in damp dirt at 8:17 a.m., the city bus hissing past on Lakeshore and some delivery truck idling under the big oak. The shadow from that tree eats my backyard like a black hole. I had been staring at a patch of stubborn weeds for weeks, and today I finally...
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I was kneeling in dirt at 7:18 p.m., rain threatening, staring at a patch of stubborn brown under the big oak where nothing but dandelions seems to want to live. The street lamps in Lorne Park had that orange halo, cars hissed by on Lakeshore Road, and I was cursing a bag of premium seed that, at...
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I was kneeling in wet soil at 7:12 a.m., the cashmere of an early spring rain still on my jacket, and a soggy bag of "premium sun mix" grass seed at my feet. Cars on Lakeshore Road hissed by like a distant aquarium, and a delivery truck beeped twice as it reversed into a driveway two houses down....
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I was kneeling in the dirt at 7:12 a.m., coffee cooling beside me, staring at a patch of stubborn yellow weeds under the big oak that looks over our backyard. A neighbour's pickup rattled down Lorne Park Road, someone somewhere started a leaf blower too early, and I had dirt under my nails like a...
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I was crouched on my knees in damp loam at 7:12 last night, headlamp wobbling as a car from Lakeshore Road whined past, and I still couldn't tell whether I was staring at stubborn moss, crabgrass, or some species of universal backyard defeat. The big oak in the back throws a perfect umbrella of...
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I am crouched in the backyard, elbow-deep in damp soil, watching a single green blade bend under the weight of morning dew and the giant oak's shadow. A truck idles on the street—somebody cutting through Lorne Park to avoid the Erin Mills weekday crawl—and the air already smells like rain. I just...
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