Were I to name the wildflowers, they would go on being wild, and I would become a little less so. Along the rim trail, and deep in the north end of the dustless, green canyon, is an abundance of delicate flowers, poised on tender stems, calling out to the bees and butterflies in scented voices and soft hues. Some look like tiny stars; some have large petals; some hold up […]
It’s indicative of character, I think, that beyond my immediate family, my dearest, closest friends are people I’m unlikely ever to meet in the flesh, and who live hundreds or thousands of miles away. It’s also indicative of the times, for without social media, email, and online publishing, chances are great that our paths would never have crossed. As it is, the number is still small. I have many acquaintances, […]
Listen — even this low, the stream above North Falls sings of abundance. . [ 1582 ]
When the river’s low and seems lazy and unconcerned, Memory’s a winding path through the old cottonwoods on the floodplain. Come back in spring. Be here for the reckoning. . [ 1564 ]
green water / blue heron /gray sky a breath sooner or later green water / gray sky . [ 1563 ]
The Goose Lake trail. Autumn scents. Ripe blackberries. Words said, none written. Wild carrots. Spent thistle. Chicory in bloom. August 14, 2022 . [ 1520 ]
Another early-morning skunk visit: when I opened our front door at four, our fluffy friend was passing by. When I went out at four-thirty to run, its scent was strong in the air. When I returned, the scent was gone — which is to say, it had become part of the breathable atmosphere we all share, thus making us part skunk. Stardust and skunk. Roses, too. Violence and intelligence do […]
William Michaelian 