White desk with pink notebook, roses, keyboard, and gold paperclips that Francesca Varela uses to write environmental fiction

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  • White-Tailed Tropicbird

    2–3 minutes

    I love Oregon, but I know I’m meant to live in Hawaii, or another tropical place. I’ve known this since the moment I first swam in the ocean in Waikiki as a fourteen year-old; when I first floated on my back and felt the colors of the sky drain into me. I’m going to live here someday, I

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  • A Walk

    2–3 minutes

    Yesterday I went for a walk, and the world was mine. It was just me and my dog; the only two people in the river’s sight, the only two people ever to live. Heavy water spread in waves against mudded cliffs. Their sound was cylinders, wind chimes. Always we looked past the houses lining the

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  • Foraging: A Local Food Solution

    4–6 minutes

    My best guess is that you’ve never eaten a dandelion. Now, I don’t mean this in an offensive way— I just mean that most people have never had the delight of plucking one of those yellow flowers from the grass and grinding it between their teeth. Dandelions (taraxacum officinale) are among the most notorious weeds,

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  • Inspiration

    3–4 minutes

    There was a time when anyone could look up at night— anyone, anywhere on the entire planet—and, if the clouds were absent, they could see the sky in its entirety. I have always looked for the stars on clear nights, but I haven’t always found them. I’ve stood outside, tilted my chin to Canis Major,

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Learn more about Francesca Varela's novels