Just a note on how much I enjoyed Force-Field. Read it and shared it with friends. It took me on a mini trip to Wisconsin where I hope to go sometime soon. The pictures of the trees soothed
The black and white photo of Little Fawn tasting the air and yourself is lovely! There is something about black and white photos....the 11 Things essay is a joy to read, as well as an absorbing study into great writing. Thank you! Good luck on the journey home!
Thanks for taking us with you to Beloit. And what a wonderful apple mystery! Also, blessings to the universe for protecting you and the baby when you fell. Stay warm and hugs to you....
Beautifully written as always. I love the bundling up, you and little Fawn, all the layers, like this winter essay. I love the mystery of the apples and how the number increased by one each time. I would take it as a sign whether a natural born someone left them or an ancestor from the mounds was answering your question about sidewalks and cemeteries. Reading this essay brought a brief moment of relief from the pressure of simply being a citizen of this country right now. I felt like a citizen of Earth. Thank you.
I love the magical apples so much. As I was reading this, I spotted two vultures outside my office window. They've landed on the chimney of the church kitty corner from me. They keep spreading their wings to warm up, I assume, from the chimney drafts. It felt quite magical to spot them in concert with this essay!
I enjoyed reading your mini essays. Each with its different emphasis, moving the story along. You’ve given me a fascinating glimpse into a foreign world. Thank you. (Love the pics, especially that strange tree bark)
I love bur oaks. Midwest Oak Savannas were one of the early habitats where I practiced the art of fire healing on the landscape.
I had a declining bur oak that brooded over the exercise ring on the horse farm in Illinois where I was writing my Master's thesis. Each day, I would be glance out my window and be distracted from my work to daydream about what that tree knew, well before any white face walked under its branches.
Later, I lived in a neighborhood in Dayton, Ohio named five oaks. It was named after five large bur oaks that had stood along a dirt farm road, then transformed to housing blocks, and finally to a bus route. Amazingly, three of the old oaks has survived all that hubbub and one of them was in my back yard. I paid homage to the tree by restoring a slice of forest strata right there in the city. I planted two dogwood trees under it with a carpet of woodland spring ephemerals ringing its root crown. A park director and writer came by and cored the tree. He said it was at least 350 years old. That was 35 years ago. I was back there last month. The house is in disrepair. The tree remains.
Oh, I saw that slip and fall coming. I saw you landing on your back to protect her before I read it. So glad you both were OK. Great to see the photos of you two ladies adventuring together. I love the unresolved mystery of the apples. Parable there too, don't you think? The Universe gives and the universe takes away. So much has been taken in and outside of your life these last few months. So good to see the larder of life returning good for all the good you have already given.
It was lovely reading about your experiences in the frozen north. I have been immersed in reading about our current coup each day for too long during the day. I felt relaxed and nourished after reading about you, Fawn, your students and colleagues...and all the animal characters, the ancestors present in the common area, and the large trees that shelter all!
I once came upon a dead squirrel in the road, squashed by a car, and another squirrel sitting by it's side. I was stunned, it could only have been its mate.
Also, my baby used to stick her tongue out in the wind! :-) So wonderful to see it.
Thanks for a delightful essay. And apples, such a mystery!
How utterly wonderful is every word of this. ❤️ So glad you and LF weren't hurt in the ice fall. I went down like that once, carrying an elderly dog down the back stairs so she could pee in the snow. Safe travels to you and Silas on the trip south, toward warmth.
Just a note on how much I enjoyed Force-Field. Read it and shared it with friends. It took me on a mini trip to Wisconsin where I hope to go sometime soon. The pictures of the trees soothed
my winter-weary soul. Thank you.
The black and white photo of Little Fawn tasting the air and yourself is lovely! There is something about black and white photos....the 11 Things essay is a joy to read, as well as an absorbing study into great writing. Thank you! Good luck on the journey home!
So good!
Thanks for taking us with you to Beloit. And what a wonderful apple mystery! Also, blessings to the universe for protecting you and the baby when you fell. Stay warm and hugs to you....
Beautifully written as always. I love the bundling up, you and little Fawn, all the layers, like this winter essay. I love the mystery of the apples and how the number increased by one each time. I would take it as a sign whether a natural born someone left them or an ancestor from the mounds was answering your question about sidewalks and cemeteries. Reading this essay brought a brief moment of relief from the pressure of simply being a citizen of this country right now. I felt like a citizen of Earth. Thank you.
Freezing fog is a thing. Sorry you found out about it the hard way.
- A Wisconsin refugee who misses it every day.
Safe travels friend.
I love the magical apples so much. As I was reading this, I spotted two vultures outside my office window. They've landed on the chimney of the church kitty corner from me. They keep spreading their wings to warm up, I assume, from the chimney drafts. It felt quite magical to spot them in concert with this essay!
I enjoyed reading your mini essays. Each with its different emphasis, moving the story along. You’ve given me a fascinating glimpse into a foreign world. Thank you. (Love the pics, especially that strange tree bark)
I love bur oaks. Midwest Oak Savannas were one of the early habitats where I practiced the art of fire healing on the landscape.
I had a declining bur oak that brooded over the exercise ring on the horse farm in Illinois where I was writing my Master's thesis. Each day, I would be glance out my window and be distracted from my work to daydream about what that tree knew, well before any white face walked under its branches.
Later, I lived in a neighborhood in Dayton, Ohio named five oaks. It was named after five large bur oaks that had stood along a dirt farm road, then transformed to housing blocks, and finally to a bus route. Amazingly, three of the old oaks has survived all that hubbub and one of them was in my back yard. I paid homage to the tree by restoring a slice of forest strata right there in the city. I planted two dogwood trees under it with a carpet of woodland spring ephemerals ringing its root crown. A park director and writer came by and cored the tree. He said it was at least 350 years old. That was 35 years ago. I was back there last month. The house is in disrepair. The tree remains.
Oh, I saw that slip and fall coming. I saw you landing on your back to protect her before I read it. So glad you both were OK. Great to see the photos of you two ladies adventuring together. I love the unresolved mystery of the apples. Parable there too, don't you think? The Universe gives and the universe takes away. So much has been taken in and outside of your life these last few months. So good to see the larder of life returning good for all the good you have already given.
It was lovely reading about your experiences in the frozen north. I have been immersed in reading about our current coup each day for too long during the day. I felt relaxed and nourished after reading about you, Fawn, your students and colleagues...and all the animal characters, the ancestors present in the common area, and the large trees that shelter all!
I once came upon a dead squirrel in the road, squashed by a car, and another squirrel sitting by it's side. I was stunned, it could only have been its mate.
Also, my baby used to stick her tongue out in the wind! :-) So wonderful to see it.
Thanks for a delightful essay. And apples, such a mystery!
Mic drop! This was GOOD!
Also, I'm glad you and Baby Fawn didn't get hurt!
Wonderful points of observation, reminding me why nature is so grounding. Thanks!
How utterly wonderful is every word of this. ❤️ So glad you and LF weren't hurt in the ice fall. I went down like that once, carrying an elderly dog down the back stairs so she could pee in the snow. Safe travels to you and Silas on the trip south, toward warmth.