The Magic of the Second Backyard

By K M Hasling

How can Cassidy find the key if even the Book of Answers can't help?

Sent away from her friends and favorite garden to live with a dad she hardly knows, Cassidy is lonely. Even the robin isn't good company.

Cassidy wanders beyond the backyard fence and discovers an overgrown greenhouse and a portal leading to a magical Wonderland of friendly and talkative forest creatures.

But Wonderland is missing spring. Everything is white instead of green. The pine trees are white. The grass is white. Even the robin is white.

"What happened to Spring?" Cassidy asks.

"Spring comes when the queen says so," replies the white robin.

"If you ask The Book of Answers," yawns the owl. "It might mix up your question."

But where is the queen? Follow Cassidy on a marvelous adventure to find the key to the queen's castle and bring spring to Wonderland before it's too late!

• Language: English
• Publisher: K M Hasling
• Release date: Feb 23, 2024
• ISBN: 9781005613150

K M Hasling

K M HASLING is an author of more than science fiction and fantasy novels. She has written dry user guides as an engineer, nail-biting ghost stories as a cave tour guide, and interactive fiction. Today, she lives in Colorado and turns science fiction dreams into reality as a software manager.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2024 by K.M. Hasling

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.

ISBN 978-1-0056-1315-0 (ebook)

ISBN 979-8-6819-2501-9 (paperback)

First paperback edition February 2024

www.kmhasling.com

To Mother Nature

who is the magician behind our real second backyard and never gets enough credit for the beautiful things she creates.

Contents

1.The Hole in the Fence

2.The White Robin

3.The Riddling Owl

4.New and Lonely Normal

5.The Deserted Greenhouse

6.A Promise of a Glass Castle

7.An Endless Expanse

8.The Book of Answers

9.Grasshoppers Like Encyclopedias

10.Numbers and Letters

11.Messy Fairy Songs

12.The Pine Tree Staircase

13.Breaking Through the Weeds

14.The Room at the End of the Hall

15.Princess Peach

16.Winning Windows and Losing Answers

17.Captain Magpie

18.The Spectacle Squirrel

19.Trading Reds and Yellows

20.Super Duper Trouble

21.Bringing Spring

22.Waiting at the Gate

23.The Queen of Wonderland

24.Sharing the Magic of the Second Backyard

About the Author

Acknowledgements

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The Hole in the Fence

W ould you wake up Mother Nature? Cassidy complained to the forest. We need spring to be here! It’s Spring Break, you know. Cassidy glared at the pine trees. Pine trees were ugly because they had thin branches and never lost their leaves. And while they belonged here in Colorado, she didn’t.

I’m visiting from Florida, she told a robin who was futilely searching for lunch on the ground. The robin wasn’t good company. It ignored her by dipped its head like a ballerina and hopping away. Only for Spring Break, though.

Cassidy stuffed her hands into her hoodie pocket and longed for the palm trees of home. The truth was Cassidy didn’t know how long Spring Break was going to be. This year was different. She scuffed her shoe toe in the cold dirt. Having bundled up to escape the dreary inside of her dad’s house, outside a chilly breeze blew across the plains and rustled even the big trees. It was miserable for her and the robin.

The robin flew into the upper branches of a blue spruce. Cassidy wandered between the trees, hoping to find something to do. She wanted to find something green. She found a prominent trail that must have been made by a large animal like a deer. Where does the trail go? She wondered, cheering herself up a bit. She followed the path along the barbed wire fence but lost it when it crossed over to the other side. It disappeared into the forest, zigzagging off in both directions with no end and no beginning. Cassidy traced the trail with her eyes, and it sparkled like a magical mirage. It’s just the sunlight reflecting off the pine needles, she scolded the wind.

Her mind wanted to believe it was magic. I bet magic is green, she told the hiding animals of the forest. And Mother Nature, queen of the land, would make it green all the time, she said. But we’re stuck in a winter land, not a wonderland. A dry winter land full of pine trees that are all the same and dead grasses and weeds. Who would want to rule over a place like this?

Cassidy plopped down next to one of the tree trunks and picked at the matted dirt with her fingernail. At this level, Cassidy could see the winter misery up close. The blades of dead grass were nibbled off by the rabbits. Pine needles were swept aside by birds, mice, or squirrels foraging for the one seed that wasn’t eaten among the other torn seed pods. There weren’t any worms for a robin to find yet.

Suddenly, Cassidy heard music playing. It was a wind chime banging together in the wind. Wasn’t it? The wind chime did a full scale, one note at a time, evenly spaced like the wind was learning to play piano.

Do-re-mi-fa-sol-la-ti-do!

A wind chime doesn’t do that on its own.

Then, Cassidy noticed a hole in the barbed-wire fence. The thorny wire looped between fence posts at four levels, and in some places, it crossed itself and caught in a rat’s nest of knots. At this spot, the barbed wire was pulled apart just enough for a fox to slip through. The top strands were twisted together, and the two bottom strands were tangled in the grass, making a circle in the barbed wire fence.

Cassidy got on her hands and knees and crawled closer to the fence opening. The barbed wire was sharp and could tear her clothes or, worse, snag her hair or cut her cheek. Cassidy stuck her head through the opening to judge the size.

Do-re-me-fa-sol-le-te-do.

That was even stranger! Three of the notes were different. A minor scale?

Cassidy pulled back her head and sat on her heels. The wind blew softly in the upper branches, and the trees seemed to whisper, Go, go! She listened for the chimes to follow the wind.

Do-re-mi-fa-sol-la-ti-do!

It was coming from the other side of the fence. In fact, Cassidy swore it was coming from the hole in the fence. Cassidy looked at the hole, and the bent barbed wire that circled the opening now beckoned her like a portal. If I duck, I could jump and roll through, she thought. I could fit. Cassidy stuck her head through it again, and the chimes tolled the minor chord again.

She jumped.

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The White Robin

Cassidy fell and rolled softly on the ground like she was falling into snow.

Wait. It was snow.

Cassidy looked around her, and the entire world was white. The trees were white, the branches and pine needles were white, and even the ground was white. Cassidy was sitting in a small crater of fluffy white. The impression left from her somersault through the fence was like an abominable snowman’s footprint. She scooped at the snow and poured it out of her hand. It fell like dirt, but it was soft. She tried to pack some of it into a snowball, but it wouldn’t stay together. She blew it into the air, and it sparkled and danced like microscopic snowflakes. Her jacket was covered in white too. It wasn’t cold like snow and wasn’t melting like snow. When she dusted herself off, little particles flew away, yet the whiteness seemed to stay, clinging to her coat.

Looking around this strange winter land, a little, white bird hopped along the ground in the distance. Hop. Then it cocked its head and another hop. The bird saw her and looked at her inquisitively like it was waiting for her to ask it a question. It hopped closer. Cassidy ogled at the bizarre bird who was wearing clothes. The white pants surely would have fallen around the bird’s skinny legs without the belt and suspenders attached to them. The pant legs were wide around the bird’s narrow legs, which looked ridiculous. Self-consciously, Cassidy looked down at her bony legs that she joked were chicken legs. She didn’t look funny in her black leggings compared to this bird.

The bird shook itself, and white dust floated off, but it still looked like it was wearing a white suit coat with the way its tail flicked. Then the bird stared at Cassidy straight on.

You are early.

Cassidy’s mouth dropped open in surprise. She knew the bird had spoken to her even though birds don’t usually speak. So, she replied earnestly, Early to what?

It came closer, leaving little footprint indentions in the snow that looked like wrinkles. Now at arm’s reach, Cassidy saw the bird had a soft red belly, reminding her of Santa Claus, the way it stuck out above its belt.

Are you spring? The white robin asked.

Spring? I don’t think so.

Probably not. Spring doesn’t come early. It comes exactly when the queen is ready for it. Oh! It exclaimed, dashing after a fleck of snow, snatching at it with its beak. Each snatch exploded the floating speck like a firework, first green, then a second peck, red. And just like a firework, it quickly disappeared. I missed it. I swear I saw a worm.

I’m looking for spring too, Cassidy agreed. She yearned for winter to be over. Do you know where it is?

You mean you didn’t bring it with you? The bird tilted its beak, pointing the side of its head at the ground for a closer look at some white pine needles, the tops a washed-out gray color. The bird scratched at a few of them, sending them flying with a twinge of green before they settled to rest.

Cassidy wished spring was something she could just carry around with her. She wanted to see little shoots growing, leaves opening, and flowers smiling. Spring was still weeks away at her dad’s house in Colorado. How far away was it here?

When does spring usually come? she asked the white robin.

I told you. It comes when the queen is ready for it.

The queen? Cassidy asked.

The white robin opened its wings a bit and bobbed its head as if it had stated the obvious and nothing else needed to be said. Then it scurried a good ten paces, plonking a trail of tiny footprints in the snow.

Wait! Cassidy cried.

Why? You don’t know where spring is, replied the white robin.

I don’t, but neither do you.

I’m not looking for spring. I’m looking for worms. Cassidy nodded. Spring was not here yet. And in a way, she was looking for it. The bird scratched at the ground again, sending another flurry of white-green strings flying. Cassidy thought it looked hungry. Without spring, it would be hard to find any worms to eat.

Well, I’ll keep looking for spring on my own then, she decided.

The white robin shrugged, grabbed its belt, and pulled it higher up around its pink middle.

Well, you can look for it. But you won’t find it. It’s not here yet.

Does spring come through the fence? Like me? The bird stopped scratching and stared at her. Cassidy stared back. She wasn’t a worm, and staring was rude.

How should I know? The bird must have decided the conversation was done because it flew away without another word.

Well, isn’t that nice. That bird doesn’t know anything! But Cassidy had a funny feeling the robin knew something about spring she didn’t. Cassidy knew nothing about this magical white forest.

Cassidy searched with her peripheral vision for a flutter of color of another critter, hoping to catch a rustle or shiver. Unfortunately, as far as she could tell, she was alone in the white world. When she turned fully around, she saw the fence. But it was different on this side. With neat wide planks, the white picket fence went off in both directions. And the hole in the fence was different too. It was a portal! She could see through to the bark of the pine trees and the rocks and dirt on the other side. Encircling the opening was a snowstorm. The white snow flowed around it but never into it. The contrast between the white woods and the dark of her dad’s house was dramatic due to the colors in Colorado. Browns and blacks. Tans