The Sound of a Door Closing (Pt. I)

  Just yesterday, though it wasn’t the first time, a parent stopped me on my way out of the school to ask how I was doing.  Had it been the first time, I may have stopped and stayed there to give her a more sincere answer.  I probably wouldn’t have replied with only a curt…

Leafhopper

I know jumping is bad for the knees, harder on the body as we get older, but I never realized that this little insect, this pest, as it leaps from leaf to leaf, to whatever it decides or desires, is the thing killing my garden. I’ve wondered once before what’ll stress a plant to the…

Where Home Will Come to Settle

July 9th, South Creek Trail I’ve been mulling over “Wild Geese” by Mary Oliver since the first time in March.  The poem seems to be slowly developing its color and understanding as I allow myself to really feel into how its message applies to my life. The line, “harsh and exciting” has caught my attention…

The Water Originally Taught the Wind

The mornings here are pine, spruce, and birch, large swathes of cattails and goldenrod animated by the wind, and caught by the cold. It’s a far different landscape than the sprawling suburbs I’ve come to know, their limited selection of oriental roses, grafted trees, and lush, green lawns. Here, there’s only the sound of the…

The Unlived Life is not Worth Examining

That past is unwavering, it’s done. Regardless of who tells the story, the past is settled and stilled much like the seasons of leaves that have now become the very soil, our natal bedding, below our feet. And while offering recognition to the people and events that brought us to where we are now becomes…

Gamel, believing only takes believing

Sitting on the wall, split in her certainty by her own thinking: for one, looking back to ponder the way that brought her to where she sat on the wall; and for another: considering the route ahead—the vague outline of the route, obscured by a blinding sunlight—This is how I found Gamel when I arrived…