A Sunday in late June, anticipated since the dark, icy days of January, finally arrived with the blue skies and green grass expected of such a day in Minnesota. The enthusiastic committee members had spent
A thunderstorm roared through this morning, knocking out the electricity, uprooting a dozen trees, and producing excellent mosquito hatch conditions. This is exactly the type of morning you don’t want to wake up to if
It was a trip planned for spring 2020, before the world closed down abruptly, cancelling plans from visiting elder family members to foreign forays. The plan was hatched before humans hunkered down inside their homes,
Braiding Sweetgrass is a book making the rounds these days with good reason. Author Robin Wall Kimmerer writes poetically from her spirit and theoretically, as a scientist. She is a SUNY Distinguished Teaching Professor of
Dusk fell on the houses in thebarrio situated near Saltillo’s center. Christmas lights were hung on the artificial pine in the sala and draped across the fireplace mantel in the home where I was staying.
If it weren’t staying darker in the morning and getting darker earlier in the evening, it would be difficult to guess that these seventy degree days belong to October. The yellow aspen leaves falling among