An old friend died yesterday, someone whose company I had enjoyed every single day for more than five years. A soon-to-be new neighbor hired a crew of eight men to scalp the property below me in order to build a house with a better view. Now I’m no eco-snob—I already enjoy a lovely water and mountain [...]
Continue reading...2. October 2009
I nearly gasped with delight when I pulled into the parking lot of my local country store this morning and saw a magnificent display of pumpkins, corn stalks, hay bales and chrysanthemums. This store is the real deal—wooden floors, a woodstove in winter, a huge array of produce from their own farm and fresh-pressed, unpasteurized true apple cider.
Continue reading...21. September 2009
This is always a bittersweet day—the last day of summer—as we turn toward the darker months, especially here on the 48th parallel. Autumn is my favorite season and I’ll celebrate that tomorrow, but today the sun is still warm and glorious and dahlias are at their peak. I took these photos in a nearby garden, and [...]
Continue reading...16. September 2009
The last roses of summer hang loosely on the bush. Just moments from releasing their petals to flutter to the ground, the roses will curl, yellow, dry and dissolve into mulch for next season’s blooms. As I bury my nose in the soft center of a scarlet cabbage rose, I cup my hands beneath it to catch the fragrant pieces as they fall away from their center. I fill my pockets with them and when I get home I will spread them out to dry...
Continue reading...21. August 2009
A glistening catches my eyes—a plump jeweled blackberry glowing in the shade of a cottonwood tree. I pull the prickly vine up to my mouth and suck the sweet berry directly onto my tongue, leaving the stained pith behind. Then greedy, I search for more—Nature’s version of an Easter egg hunt. It kindles hardwired memories [...]
Continue reading...13. July 2009
Watch you step next time you’re in the woods—literally—to see what you’re really walking on. Then get down on the ground and really take a good look. An apology might be in order. Which got me to musing about moss. What must it be like to belong to a colony of plants who carpet the forest floor? What would it be like to have no control over which leaves falls onto you and which ones scuttle along on a breeze? How would it be to have your sun, your light, your source suddenly disappear beneath a green alder tent?
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12. November 2009
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