After night came, a large bug, nearly the size of a bird, began banging into a floodlight near the front door. It soon came to rest on the front door screen. We peered at it from the wrong side. It was weird looking, longer and broader than an ordinary cicada. We wanted to go outdoors…
In the deeper parts of the bog, the inky water reflects the sky, its surface spangled with algae and stray leaves.
At night, the flowering dogwood looks like a beautifully painted screen.
Were we too late to see the ephemerals? The leaves overhead were just beginning to form a dreamy green veil.
Suddenly, like a loose tooth, the old tree was gone.
For all the family and friends who’ve ever sat in these chairs and whiled away the time with us.
Repairs trigger episodes of suspense, drama, pride, anguish, and (often) comedy.
Happy at the prospect of the temperature hitting sixty, we climbed in the car and headed for the Kesling Preserve.
Inside this global pandemic is a golden moment when we have the perfect excuse to be families, nothing more.
The river reflects the grey bark of the trees, and the sky, which is a dazzling, deep, violet-tinged blue.
As we prepare for an event we can’t begin to imagine, an invisible agent approaches, pushing out what was convenient, convivial, and carefree.
The thousands of stubby spring seedlings that the landscape crews planted are now fulfilling an anonymous designer’s vision.