I’ve been thinking about my backyard lately.

Not currently, not lately, not even as a teenager or adult, but my first backyard, the one that shaped me in many ways, set my boundaries, defined my world: the yard behind 491 S. Highland St., neighborhood of Normal Station, Memphis, Tennessee, USA, Earth.

There was a fence around half of it, a pretty white board fence, and a one-room white clapboard studio at the back of that half on an ivy-covered rise. It had big double-hung windows — giant windows for a little boy — and a brick chimney.

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