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For sometimes I just want to sit, in the empty space before tomorrow; while yesterday begins to fade from crisp experience to memories hazy hues, and summer’s birdsong migrates beyond my horizon.
The light is just different here.
We woke up in California, and by afternoon were in the big trees. Sunbeams and redwood needles, quiet giants and a step into the past.
Tulips from a friend, watering can from a grandmother, Farmer's Almanacs from 100 years before we were born. The coolness of smooth marble under foot balances the sudden heat without in this new type of Vermont spring. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Spring Tulips now up
Inside a vase of last year's green garlic; collected, spent, and admired through months of deepest winter. Outside the first shoots of this year's crop begin to emerge from under their bed of hay, testing the weather hesitantly before devoting themse
“Imagination, he said, soothed the ‘deep wounds’ that pure ‘reason’ sometimes created.” - Andrea Wulf on Alexander Von Humboldt
I have been turning in the funnel of a new moon. Through the deepening quiet darkness that breaks no fast and fills no cups but those we hold with cold-tipped fingers aching for grace. For in the stillness I am - without remark and observation and fu
She would say that her entire world changed that night - that she would spend the next year reorienting herself to a universe in which he was no longer an anchor. I would say that in the wake of personal devastation she pulled from the deepest parts