Maples and Magpie

48” X 30" x 1.5” 

Acrylic on Canvas

I jumped down from the treehouse platform and ran down the hill. Running over the mounds of dirt, I entered the sea of rye at full speed. Suddenly, these flailing arms come up out of the grass like giant squid tentacles, taking me down like a helpless ship at sea. Apparently, my sister Sheryl, hiding in the grass like a sneaky magpie, had her hand over her mouth, sounding far away as she shouted my name. From that day forward she’s been known as The Catcher in the Rye.

Between Treehouse Hill and our House, there was another house and two vacant lots. Next to the hill was a vacant lot, with piles of dirt left by dump trucks after excavation for a building project on the adjacent community college campus. Next to that, towards our house, there was an empty lot covered in a sea of ryegrass. In between the field of rye and our house was another house with a broken-down wire fence that created a border between our two backyards.

One day, my friends and I were up in the maple tree working on the treehouse platform. At one point, I thought I heard a faint voice shouting my name. I ignored it. Then I heard it again. It sounded like my sister, older by two years, calling me. She called out my name again in a faint voice, saying it was time for dinner. She must be calling from our backyard, beyond the broken-down fence, I thought to myself. But no, that sneaky magpie had laid in the grass waiting.