I saw a tree full of sparrows this morning. It was like a Christmas tree but with orange and white-bellied warblers bedazzling the greens. And the sparrows sang and fluttered their wings. Then all of a sudden, they would leap for the air, and it was like an eruption of…

I like watching the pine trees sway.  There’s something so mesmerizing about those plumes that fade into an overcast backdrop in plumes and tufts.  There’s the steady head of the strongest one that rocks ever so slightly from side to side – it’s like it’s daydreaming, lost in thought way…

Can a quiet place be loud? Or a slow place always in motion? I sit in this quiet place now, where the water burbles joyously by my feet. This place is slow in a tranquil kind of way, yet the water beside me ripples and rolls – always in motion.…

I write now atop a felled tree, beneath the barren treetops. It’s a different world here in these woods. Fifty shades of umbers, reds, and browns.  We live amongst the trees, yet we hardly ever find ourselves in this arboreal domain. How often is it that we walk beneath the…

Sometimes, I sit by the waterside and relax my eyes until they glaze over just a little. I imagine the water’s reflection as a second world beneath me. Another sky, clouds, treetops, and a second yellow sun. The world filled with twice as many birds, twice as many things free…

~ More to the point though,  I think things are softer here.  I find myself thumbing a blade of grass on many occasions.  The grass is softer here –  more bendable, pliable, gentler.  It’s a mellower shade of green that flutters in the breeze.  The clouds here are softer too.…

It’s raining today. It rained yesterday. And it’ll rain tomorrow. Apparently, it’ll rain for nine days straight. So I write about rain.  Rain is fascinating – it’s water in motion, in a very particular way. It’s water in motion until it’s not. Rain’s motion forces us to slow down. I…

I think about trees a lot – the way they seem so at peace. Unhurried. That towering pine tunnels its roots deep into the ground. Grounded. Yet up top, the foliage flutters freely in the breeze.  Those leaves tickle and shimmer, sway and flutter. Trees are free – free to…