If I wrote a love story, how would it begin? Long ago, when my world was full of chaos and I longed for peace and security, I opened a book and fell headlong into it. The noise around me subsided; questions and worries fell away. The world in which I carried so much responsibility and […]Read more "A Love Story"
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"
It’s a misty, overcast morning. The air is primed for rain. The sweet corn calls from the garden. It’s time — perhaps past time — to pick and process it for winter storage. The summer winds to a close on these last days of August. In northwestern Minnesota summer announces its exit without equivocation. The […]Read more "My Question"
Walt Whitman wrote– There was a child went forth every day, And the first object he looked upon and received with wonder or pity or love or dread, that object he became, And that object became part of him for the day or a certain part of the […]Read more "A Child Went Forth"
The first wheat was taken from the fields last Sunday, and now semi-trucks loaded with grain travel the county roads to the elevator in Hazel. Sandhill cranes grazed the shorn field south of our place Monday. I parked my bike on the shoulder of the road to photograph them in the early morning light. […]Read more "You Might Ask"
Swift wind! Space! My Soul! Now I know it is true what I guessed at; What I guessed when I loafed on the grass, What I guessed while I lay alone in my bed…and again as I walked the beach under the paling stars of the morning. My ties and ballasts leave me…I […]Read more "What Shall Be Grand in Thee"
There is a man who tends his garden. In early-April he plants his seeds indoors in small pots. He plants indoors, for although the sun’s rays are strengthening, spring is still long to come. In late-April he places his seedlings in a south-facing window and climbs into his tractor to dig the fields where wheat […]Read more "Journeywork of the Stars"
We have come to the end of May, and as is often the case in late spring-early summer, the weather has turned cold. Today, as yesterday, rain-tinged winds gust out of the northeast. I sit chilled in the 9:00am dark of my study dressed in sweatshirt, jeans and heavy socks. Outside my study window, unaffected by the […]Read more "None Other"
As a child, when books were few and far between, when I had not yet learned about libraries, I craved the written word. In our home we had a small bookcase containing a set of Encyclopedia Britannica and a number of my mother’s art books. I do not know why reading was not emphasized in […]Read more "Of Libraries and Wagon Wheels"