Game Over

 

It is a slow and deliberate process, for we are the visiting team, and Mother Nature owns the entire stadium. No matter how we play, she is always watching from every seat.

      If we leave our old truck out in the field, she will grow up around it—grass up to her tires, vines through the cab—until she hauls it back into the earth.

      Ignore the paint on our house, and her insects will settle in, some gnawing, some burrowing, until the wood gives way.

       She has the home court advantage and controls the end buzzer.