Happy Memorial Day weekend (almost)! This is the weekend I used to spend driving west to check in for my summer job at Mammoth Hot Springs in Yellowstone. In honor of all the summer travel days ahead, I thought I’d share a few words from my Yellowstone manuscript. What is it about Yellowstone? Friends and … More What is it about Yellowstone?
I am back in the Midwest after a long post-DC road trip from Wisconsin to Montana to Oregon to California to New Mexico and back home. Because you can’t quite write a single thing about such a diverse trip, I decided to try to share the story of my trip in lists. I’m hoping this … More Great American Road Trip 2013: A Story in Lists
On my last day in Montana, I reached a sheep ranch outside the town of Roundup. A friend–a Wisconsin native, Montana transplant like me–had been working and living there for the season. I played with Akbash puppies and entered the pen of orphan lambs, called bums. They suckled my fingers and chewed the belt loops … More On My Last Day in Montana
Alison drove from Nashville and I from DC to spend our fourth 4th of July together, in Wilkes County, North Carolina.
(My dabbling in urban nature writing and poetry continues…) The downpour breaks a hot Friday, Beating the street with a thousand hard stops: The end of a long slice through humid air. The sidewalks surge and the professionals run for cover. Three women in dresses peer from a vestibule. A smartly dressed young man hunkers … More Downpour
Ahh, spring! Always a season of bloom. And this year, for me, a season of lessons, too. Take last Saturday: when I went out on a group hike in one of the largest concentrations of blooming trilliums in North America; when by lunchtime I found myself so annoyed by my fellow hikers’ superfluous applications of DEET … More Girl with a Trout in a Milk Jug (and Other Lessons from the Great Big Loveliness)
I forget things until springtime. The roar of fresh leaves, the frail gesture of petals, the blue cruise of clouds, the tickle of little bugs. The way sun smells on warm rock under the liquid power of cool light. The lifelift that love is. The way poems make sense, only the ones about filling and … More Things I Forget Until Springtime
“when faces called flowers float out of the ground” by e.e. cummings is one of my favorite springtime poems: when faces called flowers float out of the ground and breathing is wishing and wishing is having- but keeping is downward and doubting and never -it’s april(yes,april;my darling)it’s spring! yes the pretty birds frolic as spry … More Postcard from Springtime
Yup, I got lost in a park less than a mile from my apartment in D.C. Check out the little ditty they put on the Washington Voices blog of Washingtonian.com: http://www.washingtonian.com/washingtonvoices/anecdotes/lost-in-the-woods-of-washington.php