Between Heaven + Earth: Dianna Young

I love having a window above my kitchen sink. In various houses, I have delighted in falling snow, watched fog spill over the coastal mountains and enjoyed my peaceful backyard – all while cleaning up breakfast dishes and scrubbing pots and pans.

When we moved into our Annapolis home, the back of the property was filled with mature oak, poplar and ash trees which shaded us, muted noise and provided privacy. Several years ago, we agreed to a stormwater restoration project aimed at improving water quality in Chase Creek. The construction was expansive, the new landscape shocking. The small stream and tall trees were replaced by wide open space, ponds, and tiny new hollies and cedars.

In life, we may choose our landscape. The California coast, Chesapeake Bay, or mountain vacation for a change of scene. Sometimes, a new landscape is thrust upon us. Forests decimated by wildfires or beaches swept away in a storm. A world forever altered by the loss of a loved one. I’m still adjusting to the view from my kitchen window. I complain about it, but I’m learning to appreciate new gifts. Croaking toads and frogs, a mama fox and her kits playing on the hillside, a fat ground hog waddling along. Eastern bluebirds swooping in the open space and a marvelous, red-shouldered hawk sitting in the dead hickory tree we’ve left standing just for him. I have a better view of the orange sunset, full moon and children sledding down a nearby hill. This new landscape offers joy and peace. I wait for things to grow. I remind myself to have faith.