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."
In 2007 I lived in Boulder, CO. One December day we got a deluge of snow -- white everywhere. I was the only idiot who drove to the Flatirons to hike in the desolate cold. I hiked in the mountains for hours and heard nothing. Just saw the pristine snow and the still trees. Not an animal in sight. A truly transcendent experience that I think about often, and which being online will never replicate.
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."
I read your description three times, and each time was better than the last <3
That was me looking at your drawings <3 . The ibis, the palm fronds, the loquats! You captured it all--I felt it.
In 2007 I lived in Boulder, CO. One December day we got a deluge of snow -- white everywhere. I was the only idiot who drove to the Flatirons to hike in the desolate cold. I hiked in the mountains for hours and heard nothing. Just saw the pristine snow and the still trees. Not an animal in sight. A truly transcendent experience that I think about often, and which being online will never replicate.