The front yard was grassy yet trimmed not to be wild. It was close to the wind. Nature could peer through without the rottenness of a main road getting in the way, its fumes. Rather, it was tertiary road, where there was peace, something more than suburban peace, a naturalness, a closeness to life under a gentle sun and moonlit night, where there were thin vines that could grow freely and the air remained fresh. The boy in curiosity and simple innocence and youthfulness and inquisitiveness played on the ground in calm and safety. There are odd feelings we can sense and receive from this world, disturbances to what is natural. This home was no such home, it was a home and felt like it. In the night with dimmed lights, outsiders looking inward through the windows could feel the enclosure of love that it was, the safety it possessed, the gifted security, not by man and his strengths, but by subtleties and by blessings, the feelings of love and blanketed, cozy comfort that seeped through into the souls of all who were in it and all who could see it just for a moment until they passed by.