Field

One of my happiest moments of late was finding myself in a field. Not like your usual city parks or school grounds or backyards. They tend to be trimmed short, and the ground is covered with a purchased grass and a few stragglers. This field was covered by the moisture of a very light December drizzle. At my feet, there was a surprising diversity of greens - the very broad leaves of what would maybe produce a big thistle, some tiny sumac-type leaves, little flowers - plants and grasses of many shapes creating patterns and bright smells that shimmer with life.

Within a block of the first house I remember was a field. Nowadays, this might be called 'an undeveloped property', but the kids loved it for what it was. Wild, ungoverned by adults. There was a football that was tossed back and forth. The girls called the tall thistle flowers powderpuffs. It was the kind of field where you might find blackberries, skunks, possums, rabbits. That field may be where the call of the bobwhites could be heard early in the morning.

Sometimes you'll see a sign near such a field inviting 'investment' and 'improvements'. A shopping strip, or medical center. Can there really be improvements for such a field?