Our 3 acre yard consists of this: the house and yard, a stretch of prairie grass, then the bush.
The bush has seen forts built, trees climbed, and paint ball madness from behind wood and tire barricades. It has heard giggles and gossip and war cries. It has grown a fully roofed hide-out and lured an old trailer into its mosquito-rich depths. It has yielded for our 6 kids and their friends wood ticks, scrapes and natural treasures. Queer sticks, odd stones and hours of imagination run riot.
And whenever I mowed our lawn, I mowed a path through the prairie grass to the bush for the kids.
Recently I had cause to comb the depths of the bush for some sticks for a craft and I discovered a world gone silent yet bursting with story.
Our youngest is nearly 17, the only one still living at home. The bush is quiet now except for the birds and frogs. 
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And yet I still mow that path.
Ink & Attic 