It is the end of October. In one short month, autumn has peaked and closed. The mornings are dark and cold. The evenings are short and shorter ushering in the long winter nights to come. I have located my snowboots and showshoes, my hats and mittens, my scarves and heavy pants. I have inspected my […]Read more "The Universe Is a Procession"
I drove to Rydell National Wildlife Refuge early Saturday morning. The sky was overcast, the air was cool and heavy with moisture. Rain drops pelted my windshield periodically, testing, I think, a forecast that promised sunny skies after recent heavy rains. I drove on, challenging the sky to change my plans, which it didn’t. Soon […]Read more "Let Me Go"
Jim Harrison wrote in his poem, “Time”— Time sinks slowly to the deepest part of the ocean, the Mariana Trench. She’s tired of light and there it’s pure black…She feels abused by clocks. They were never meant to be. She preferred us drifting through our lives like clouds, without dials, machinery, alarms, riding her like the […]Read more "Time"
Lately I sometimes think I am done writing. Days and weeks pass, and I find I have nothing to say. I ask myself, “How can this be? I read. I write journal entries. I compose letters. I venture outdoors. I photograph.” In spite of the stimulus, I find I think and hear nothing new. My […]Read more "Journeys Without End"
Life bores deep holes in us in hopes the nature of what we are might sink into us…. —Jim Harrison There is a truth found in running long miles each morning. There is a realization that comes at the end of the first-half of the run that however tired, however hard the wind blows, however hot […]Read more "The Nature of What We Are"
I looked for growing grass, and I found new blades growing from a fallen cottonwood trunk. Blades of Grass on Fallen Cottonwood Trunk I took a walk looking for signs of spring and heard a meadowlark singing, singing from a wire high above the earth. In the underbrush, I followed a […]Read more "Height of Grass: Spring in NW Minnesota"
At 12:45 this afternoon the temperature is -2. The wind is blowing 30 miles per hour. The windchill is -27. The fact that the sun is shining does not soften the inhospitableness of the afternoon. The wind moans; snow cuts through the air; drifts climb steadily higher against the shed and house. There will be […]Read more "Late February Thoughts"
I asked a friend yesterday, “What propels us toward and along our life’s path?” I have come to believe, I told him, that although I have choice, I choose — have chosen — unfailingly, unerringly and ultimately, my current path. My path is like that of the magnetic North Pole, and I am […]Read more "The Air Was a Cold -7"
It is the end of a year. It was not an easy year. I look back on the year past and wince shielding my inner-eye from the pain of my mother’s illness and death, the blur of unexpected activity, long hours spent on the road traveling between Minnesota and Illinois: winter weather, freezing fog, snow […]Read more "There Is A Field"
I wake now to the gray skies of November, mornings begun in darkness, workdays ending in the same. Final skeins of migrating geese stretch pencil-thin against the clouds; snow squalls blow suddenly from the north, halt, then blow again. The sun makes its appearance, apologizes, and disappears. The wind bites. The temperature drops. Winter returns. […]Read more "Winter Again"