i woke up on tuesday to find myself living in the land of ice and snow. it was truly spectacular.

on thursday, the world was still frozen.

i took atlas and my camera for a walk that evening and nearly froze my fingers off.

on friday, the world was still frozen.

i took atlas and my camera for a hike around calumet lake that afternoon. the alternate thawing and freezing meant that the trail was pretty solid, no snowshoes required.

i will confess that i expected to see jon snow and some of his brothers on the night’s watch, or else the snow queen, around every single corner.

from now on, when i read game of thrones, this is how i will picture the wall, the lands north of the wall, and winterfell in winter.

dear friend,

hello. how are you? is it winter where you are?

here, the world is white. it’s been snowing for two weeks and there is probably three and a half feet of snow on the ground already. it is somewhat unbelievable. yesterday, i shoveled a path to the shed and retrieved my snowshoes; i am really looking forward to using them. (i was trying to get to the garden to pick my last two bunches of kale. when i realized how deep the kale was buried, i turned away from the garden and toward the shed.)

these days, i am delighting in the unexpected. i read one of my poems at an open-mic poetry reading. (i felt brave. even though the poem made me cry.) then, atlas ran through the deep snow – over & over & over. (last year, he refused.) then, i was hired unexpectedly by a local cafe & am now training to become a barista. (it is seriously the most fun thing ever.) then, i gave my nephew lars a glimpse of my digital photo albums & he gave me the most enthusiastic praise ever. (BRIDGE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

you know what i’ve been thinking about lately? truth and art and fiction. i like to find my truths, and sometimes i like to share them, but i’ve been wondering if the deepest truths are wordless – at least in a literal sense – and can only be expressed in feeling or image or metaphor or story. i started thinking about this when i gathered up a handful of my favorite story club stories to create a sampler. sharing it was one of the hardest things i’ve done thus far. upon reflection, i realized that it was because the stories give you a glimpse of me – the deeper me, the magical me, the me i don’t really know how to share at all. i didn’t realize this until i read them all together. the same is true of poetry; somehow it helps me convey the ineffable. i wonder if it’s because the deepest truths are qualities – a glimpse, a reminder of who we really really are.

i wish we could sit down together, perhaps with coffee and pie. i want to listen to your stories, and feel your truths, and convey just how wonder~full you are.

xo

p.s. i know. this is not a photo of winter. i am remembering the glory of autumn, for just a little while.

history teaches us that ferns are far older than even the dinosaurs. i can believe this; there is something about them that seems ancient and timeless.

’tis true. we had snow. (i remember many a halloween that featured a snowsuit on top of my halloween costume. oh, the memories.)

well, we had snow. most of it melted already.

it was pretty! but i have decided it can wait to return until thanksgiving.

atlas agrees. whole-heartedly.

“Weeds are flowers too, once you get to know them.”

~ A.A. Milne

{an extremely irregular series: tribute the first, tribute the second, tribute the third.}

dear mark rothko,

your paintings pierce my heart.
your paintings nourish my spirit.
your paintings express the inexpressible.

i wish i could send my deepest appreciation to you on a radiant shooting star. but i believe that love is everywhere, and that our souls never die, so i trust that you feel it, everywhere you are.

you inspire me. always.

in gratitude,
your (not-so-secret) admirer

this is the tamarack tree. the latin name is larix laricina.

in spring and summer, the tamarack resembles an evergreen. in winter, its branches are bare. in autumn, the tamarack’s needles turn golden before they fall to the ground.

this color change seems to happen overnight. one day, there it is, right in front of me! a tree that’s flecked with gold.

hello, you.

it’s fall!

i like fall.

we have been tromping through the woods, on and off the trails.

i am smelling all the smells and chasing all the things.

i wish you could join me!

your friend, atlas

atlas and i were on an adventure this weekend when these red leaves called to me. they stood tall above the golden weeds, a single branch of red, in front of a very blue lake. i had to wade through the weeds to get to them.

when i saw this photo, i knew why they had summoned me. they were not autumn leaves, but a dragonfly, and the dragonfly wanted to be witnessed.

(they could also be a fairy or a butterfly or a bird in flight, but i saw the dragonfly first.)