Another fabulous piece. Even now, connected like never before to the natural world, I’ll often feel the urge to post something about it into the burbling chatter of the hive mind. Only by not doing this can the experience remain intact, though. It’s been nice to notice this.
I'm loving these posts, Amy. Reading this one at my kitchen table noticing how the resurrection ferns on the ancient oak outside my window sprung up over night after the rain blew through. Now, there's a lizard rustling through the viburnum and a spider web wet with dew hung between two leaves. Thanks for reminding me of all this wonder around me. (It's too late in the season for loquats, but you got me dreaming about them, too.) And, like Mary Oliver, "I am thinking: maybe just looking and listening / is the real work."
Another fabulous piece. Even now, connected like never before to the natural world, I’ll often feel the urge to post something about it into the burbling chatter of the hive mind. Only by not doing this can the experience remain intact, though. It’s been nice to notice this.
I'm loving these posts, Amy. Reading this one at my kitchen table noticing how the resurrection ferns on the ancient oak outside my window sprung up over night after the rain blew through. Now, there's a lizard rustling through the viburnum and a spider web wet with dew hung between two leaves. Thanks for reminding me of all this wonder around me. (It's too late in the season for loquats, but you got me dreaming about them, too.) And, like Mary Oliver, "I am thinking: maybe just looking and listening / is the real work."