Here is the Native Plant garden: a terraced pool with geometric cascades; a wet hot corridor of mountain laurel and rhododendron; a bird-bath pond, frequented just as often by turtles and frogs. Pollinators feasting on a rainbow of stalks and sundials. Hawks in flight overhead or perched in the neighboring woods. Squirrels, black and slender, skittering …
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Coyote Lovely
It starts like this: Nonna and I were walking the baby to a different playground from our usual, when we spotted a statue I'd seen before but never investigated. I went in for a closer look. I thought it might be Balto, a hero dog who already has one stony likeness in Central Park. But …
My Mother (the Skunk Cabbage.)
To every wild feminine spirit in love with the words and the woods: Happy Mother’s Day. Through our gifts of transcending and caring and loving, we are all of us mothers. “A good mother grows into a richly eutrophic old woman, knowing that her work doesn’t end until she creates a home where all of …
Moon, moon, moon
Here is an image I love: Nonna’s kitchen with the lights off, baby at the window in her grandmother’s arms. Two heads dear to me turned away, looking up and out at a clear night sky. Guarda la luna! exclaims Nonna. Mon! squeals her laughing grandbaby. Then again in our home: my husband heaves our …
One of Those Days
“Winter is not a season, it’s a celebration.” Animika Mishra You know those days. Days when you wake with anticipation. Look out the window. Call in sick (well). Cancel the dentist appointment. Days when you must, just must, get outside. On skis. Days of sun and blue skies. Days of perfect snow when crust cruising …
Writing the Wild 