In Step
Rowanberries and cedar waxwings — it’s time to plant the daffodils. . [ 1592 ]
Rowanberries and cedar waxwings — it’s time to plant the daffodils. . [ 1592 ]
Sometimes, sitting in the warm fall sun, I feel I’m waiting for my wings to dry. . [ 1568 ]
Autumn’s at the door, love. She’s selling brevity. Is she? Let’s buy all she has, and ask her to come in! . [ 1544 ]
Yesterday I saw a hummingbird visit a small spider that had made its web in the juniper, about fifteen feet above the ground. Twice it appeared to touch the spider with its long beak, and each time it did so, the spider held perfectly still. Then, when the hummingbird zipped away, the spider moved to the tip of the nearest branch. It’s hard to know exactly what happened. The hummingbird […]
There are only three hundred sixty-five days in a year, yet that short time is enough for the passing of four miraculous seasons. Each day is one of significant change, and though it holds reminders of those just passed, and promise of those to come, it is in itself unique and profoundly alone, ready to be welcomed, loved, appreciated, noticed — and then . . . and then, it is […]
Your face is calendar enough for me, the lines, the seasons — what need of dates, where light and touch and grace agree? January 1, 2021 . Snow Lessons To write with the breath, to draw without touching a thing. Are these not snow lessons, and the patient teachings of steam? You say, This pen. This page. These keys. How can I not touch them? And from deep inside comes […]
This is a Wednesday that feels so much like a Friday, one is sure Sunday is near. But what if I’d never seen a calendar, and had no idea what they were? What if I didn’t know names had been given to the days of the week? For me there would be no week, no month, no year, only seasons. There would be the kind that are short, which pass […]