Nature
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For weeks now, there has been silence – the stationary pen that only marks the page of my journal when I nod off in bed. Some call it writer’s block; I call it “the dehydrated soul groping about in desert landscapes.” I feel like one of T. S. Eliot’s hollow men. I am a dried…
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Autumn has burst on the scene with its varied invitations to deepen. In the midst of the full swing of a challenging school year, my son’s busy soccer schedule, and the general maintenance of cars, toilets, and lawns, I’ve still managed to stop to ponder the nuthatches feeding in the neighbor’s pine trees by the…
