BEEN THINKIN’ ABOUT… STORYBOOK DIRT. The smell of the leaves is strong in the November dusk, strong and acidic and tannic and luminous, the smell of the forest’s death and rebirth, of the garden and autumn all at once. The sun slipped beyond the west seemingly only moments ago and now all is but dark.…
BEEN THINKIN’ ABOUT… FOREST OR FIRE. Hot afternoons and cold nights and the Ozarks’ oak forest blossomed in crimson, orange, and brilliant yellow. Fall has finally fallen, too late for Halloween, but right on cue. I drive home in awe, even as early dusk covers the hills in a gauzy purple blanket. At some point…
BEEN THINKIN’ ABOUT… THE DARK MOON QUIET. The cold night wind is in the elm branches, making a faint whistling sound. From somewhere nearer the creek comes the light scratching of talons on branch. Starlight is twinkling, save for patches of black, denoting clouds moving in. The weather is changing, getting colder. There is white…