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"
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"
Frost touched northwestern Minnesota early Thursday morning. Just like that, summer ended. We now watch the forecast closely, tarps at hand to cover late-ripening tomato and pepper plants. Beets and carrots are pulled; soups simmer in stock pots and slow cookers. Yellow squash is blanched and frozen. Spent plants are gathered and thrown atop the […]Read more "Inevitable Change"
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"
I have thought much since January how life is tentative. I have known abstractly the brevity of life – how war extinguishes breath, the soldier and civilian’s; how famine weakens and illness encroaches; how epidemics — smallpox, tuberculosis, yellow fever, and cholera —sweep aside generations in their path. Polio was the childhood fear of my mother. […]Read more "I Walk"
A decent day is promised after two days of high winds, rain and cold temperatures. It’s hard to give up an early June weekend to inclement weather — hard on my mind; hard on my body; hard on my creativity. In the face of the cold and rain, though, I slept late Saturday morning, sleeping […]Read more "Consider How the Lilies Grow"
The world is cloudy this morning — gray with late-winter light — but yesterday! Yesterday was really something! Something to get out into; something beautiful and bright! Blue skies stretched from east to west. The March sun held warmth — real warmth — and I celebrated with hands bared as I snowshoed across the compacting drifts, […]Read more "Slowly We Return to Earth, or a Walk in the March Sun"