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The Madrone
249 wordsWe walk into the fields, these open spaces that were once the farms of pioneers, once great swaths of white oak savannah, once tall grasslands where elk and deer stepped lightly through volcanic dust. The sky is big, here. You can see it all—the entire sweep of it, blue mixing into the pale, creaking grass,…
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The Cold Light of Mars
330 wordsI look out the window just past dusk, and I see a point of light close to the horizon, just above the hill, poised to sink down into it the way the sun falls into the ocean. I head outside and don’t even bother to put on my shoes, stepping gingerly over the maple helicopters…
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Two Moments
263 wordsYou’re at the park near your house, walking your dog, and you stop for a moment to look up, to feel the pulse of the firs as they flicker orange in the light. Playing behind them, in tandem, almost as if a filter screen has been transposed over it, you see just as clearly a…
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The Fallen Fir
342 wordsIt’s the kind of fog that you can feel as you walk through it, all the droplets hanging static, not enough of them to wet your hair, but enough of them that they pelt your face like grains of sand, each waterdrop present and tangible, as though the air itself is made from mist, and…
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