I pass by this residence often and for some reason really love it. It's quite bleak, actually, a yard with one little tree, the grass always sun-bleached. But the ocassional debris of childhood- miniature trucks, a small bicycle- all within the boundaries of the fenced yard make it feel like I'm looking into the safety of a child's world. I remember feeling like our front yard was my zone; I could enjoy being surrounded by the neighborhood but have a sense that there was a forcefield protecting me in my yard. What's hard to make out in this photo is the handwritten sign that reads: "free"- outgrown children's clothes free for the next use.