North America

20210901_125447-_D5A1981

Canadian Borders and Waters

When people keep saying "only six weeks left of winter," I actually feel . . . sad. I have grown to love this season so much, and Walker's passion is far beyond mine. So we're quite happy right now. In addition to all the beautiful, slidey ways to glide through forests or slip down hills, and the simple quiet of the snow falling around our little village, I love this time when being inside at night draws out contemplation, and we can look back at the sunny times from earlier, and think of them…

20210830_165549-_Z7A8606

The Bold Coast

The winds are so forceful right now that it feels like we are inside a car wash, and the winds are great dry brushes swiping around the corners of the house. This is our first real Maine blizzard, and it is hard not to personify its moods and vigor. But I can tell you that about every 3 minutes, I jump out of my chair from the noise to check that the house is still planted on the street, and not levitating. January has dipped us in and out of these arctic pushes and so without much interest in…

20210906_184857-_Z7A8958

A Year in Maine

As I'm writing at 2:50pm, the sun is so low over the ocean it has dissolved into a foil ribbon of glimmer straight into our living room. So bright and present, the glare so painful and we cannot look back or forward but close our eyes and feel where we are. It's a strange thing for me not to be planning trips this time of year, but sitting in the warm sun is its own gift still, and in many ways for us, this year was about practicing presence, being where we are and not living ahead or backwards…

20200315_110241-_Z7A0442

A Year's Sea Change (and Fogo)

The past year has modulated our lives small tones at a time and then sudden key changes, so much that it has been hard to write with clear distinctions about each place we are, and how we are in that place. But this week, we are all thinking much about the milestone of a year since the shifting starting and in that longer expanse, it is easier to see a then and a now. We have lived in four places in few-month groupings this year, and some of them I have not had a chance to share here. Who we…

20201010-_Z7A5105

Turtle Lake, MN (and life for the last few months)

The serenity of a clear fall day is among life's greatest delights, clean and pure: the slightly darkened blue sky, rainbows of orange and red mums, warty pumpkins at the farmer's market. October is always my favorite. We are still in Minnesota, and it has been my favorite month here, just as it is back east. It is the feeling of the evening before your birthday all month. Life's pacing has warped the last 6 months: long days with crackling fires and talking late into the evening--single…

20200418-_Z7A3005

The Moon's Light, A Path

This post is the third of the Small Noticings series, started here.  In New York, I can't see the moon from our windows, and its light is replaced by round, buzzing street lamps. But with thin curtains over open windows at night in this quiet cabin, I notice the brightness of the moon's variations. Right now it is waxing, growing bit by bit. The night before the full moon, we work on our small fire, and the clouds blow thin and fast over the moon, blurring it. Last night, I reached to pull…

20200425-_Z7A3035

Travelers and Toads (SN2)

This post is the second of the Small Noticings series, started here.  At first, I found it hard to notice nature here at the cabin. Everything is still. The water is a dark, pure mass. But at lunch we take the paddleboat into a glassy lake, and watch the runners slicing open the water's surface. We pull into the dock, and a boreal chorus frog (I look up later) sits so still I put my camera almost to his back and he doesn't take a breath. I touch his thigh and he still holds. This great…

20200430-_Z7A3101

Long Lake: Three First Impressions

This post is the first of the Small Noticings series, started here.  I have spent no time on lakes, I realize when I'm talking to my mom on the phone, and they make me uneasy. When the wind blows and all the water rushes south, I can't figure out where it goes. It seems to be an endless flow and yet the lake has a tight limit, the grass and birches holding it in. Sun-warmed on top, wind stirred, what is in the lake can't hide in the marsh grass long. A turtle head in the distance. A loon…

20200425-_Z7A3046

Small Noticings: A New Series

From our small perch, it has been tempting to look at the world not through our own windows, but the news right now. These very wide lenses project vast change and uncertainty. The ruminations of what could be ahead for the entire state, country, world are expansive and uncharted. Much as the horizon view seems to keep others centered, looking at everything at once is too much of a stretch for my head right now. So for the past two months, I have been writing field notes nearly daily, small…

20200412-_D5A1057

Late Snow; Life Lately

On Sunday morning, flakes turned from drifters to thick clumps of stars, not sparkly, but a dense white feathering over the whole world. I had been watching for buds, but this was more beautiful than I had imagined a world of green being, our Easter renewal. The past week has felt almost stagnantly normal. In the few moves I've made, I'm surprised how quickly huge changes become routine and how quickly normal itself can change.  Even now, I've forgotten what the inside of my home…