Above North Falls

Thirty-three degrees. Cold toes. Above North Falls January 20, 2023 . [ 1677 ]
Leaves crisp where they’ve fallen, grass growing through. Winter’s a love story. We are too. . [ 1643 ]
So perfect, so still — did you die, little bird, or were you cured by the cold? . [ 1636 ]
running through the windy dark in icy rain the leafy streets the streetlights’ shine come inside dry the feet the legs the hair and find a strange sight in the mirror . [ 1608 ]
apples crisp, maples rose and yellow / geese in flight, wet feet on cold stone . [ 1604 ]
First a maple, then an oak — after the storm, the trees go on raining. . [ 1596 ]
A couple of mornings ago I dug up the garden space. It’s been a very cool, wet April, one of about half a dozen of the coolest and wettest on record. The soil is in wonderful condition, a joyful fact confirmed by an abundance of fat, healthy worms. With luck, despite a continued chance of rain in the forecast, we’ll be able to plant a few things this week or […]
Dry pavement. Thirty-four degrees. Stars, clouds, fog. I was passed by a young runner this morning whose footsteps were so loud they started a dog barking. He was on the sidewalk, I was in the middle of the road. Someday, if the young runner is lucky, he will be an old runner. If he’s even luckier, he’ll be a running elder, prized for his wisdom in all the villages around. […]