October 27, 2012


Little child, this morning you woke me when the sky was still black, milky with low clouds and fog, and in the darkness I laid my hands over the places where you like to move. 

I thought: soon, the sun. I thought: a new day. I thought: you are already so alive that it frightens and thrills me, you who I know but do not know, you who I feel but cannot see. 

I have watched the seasons change all my life. I have anticipated the tightening, the clean coat of snow, the turning over. I have waited for signs, and they have come, every time, in the form of something I have words for. 

But you, child, are hidden: I close my eyes and sense you behind a tree trunk, between a row of pumpkins, below the surface of a summer lake. 

Your face is the peaks and valleys and plains of the earth, given new sounds, new names, that I've not yet learned how to say.

October 17, 2012


Listen: after a long day's work
the land is stretching its body
exhaling toward sleep and white dreams

October 11, 2012

Nature and Environmental Writing Conference

I said I'd fill you in on how my presentation at The Loft's Nature and Environmental Writing Conference went. What I meant was: I'll tell you everything! I'll make you feel as if you we're there! Because it was wonderful and inspiring and refreshing, and who doesn't need a little bit of all that?

What I can offer, though, is a much more truncated version of the story I intended to share. It is mid-October, people. Is any one else amazed by that? And October means midterm grading and stacks of student essays and the arrival of the German exchange students (and Carolin and Annette) and a trip west to Washington to visit the first child who has made me an aunt. There have also been road trips and late afternoon walks and squash soup. But those details will come later. Maybe. Let it be enough, friends, to say that these two years of blogging have led to opportunities and people that I never would have had and never would have met had it not been for this space.

This is what I talked about with my fellow writers: how blogging--this often self-focused thing that people do indoors--can lead to greater inspiration and connection with yourself, others, and the world. Below is a link to the Prezi I used to help convey my thoughts. There is no narration, alas, but if you're interested, I hope you're able to gather all the main points by clicking through and guess at the bad jokes I made along the way. And if not, I'd be happy to attend another writing conference near you and present all over again. :)

Happy (almost) weekend! What does October hold in store for you?