Quinn's father said the basketball hoop was filled with wisteria. In the net were purple blossoms, vines and vines, looked like they were coming through the backboard, as if breaking through the fiberglass, the net, when looked at right, was pulsing with vines he said, like the time in Mexico where they got lost and had to pay and old couple to use their outhouse and when he looked up the walls were moving because of all the lizards. He thought it as an optical illusion.
The wisteria started at the mailbox but Quinn's father didn't think anything of it. "I started mowing the lawn around it before the vegetation took over."
"We thought the green was coming back, the bomb hadn't killed Mother Nature, we were told before the war started that nature, as we knew it, would not be the same again, and, frankly, they did not know what to expect this time around. Last time, my lawn didn't grow up back for a year."
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