Bill Goodwin

The leaves are falling in our backyard. The liquid ambers have gone deep red, and their leaves blow into drifts that collect against the grass. My four-year-old son looked out the window the other morning and found one suspended perfectly in mid-air. Held by a single invisible thread, thanks to a spider with outsized hunting ambitions, the leaf hung above the herb garden, outside the window of our breakfast nook… . Continue Reading »