Lions and Tigers and Bears, Oh My!| The Last Word On Nothing
Time is escaping me today. What day is this, anyway? This post first ran in February of 2016, and this morning I landed in Frankfurt, Germany, after a chain of cancelled and delayed flights from Colorado, which has my head swimming. What day is this, anyway, is a real question. It turns out to be the day I was supposed to have a post ready to go, but I was thinking it was due tomorrow, or maybe yesterday. Last month I flew back from Tokyo and I landed at home four hours before I took off from...| The Last Word On Nothing
I was recently in Japan with my high school graduate, a promised trip to a place I’d never been. My takeaway, besides humid summer heat poaching us in our own juices, is the wild green that took over anything humans left untouched. Hills are a chlorophyl riot, rugged canyons buried in canopies, creek after creek dancing through boulders and shadow. Even in the pulsing core of Tokyo, we’d find a temple and walk a trail through the woods getting there, washing our hands at a bamboo spigot ...| The Last Word On Nothing
Going into nature, how long does it take till you feel like you’re there? There meaning not sending emails in your head and not wincing at shifts of temperature or humidity when sun turns to rain? There’s a comfort that comes over you. Hands and the heart are no longer so far apart and pulling a thorn out of your flesh is an afterthought.| The Last Word On Nothing
In a few weeks, the back fence by the elementary school with be a place where migrants gather themselves before they leave. The fence is popular because of its temperature and the protection it offers. The sun hits the fence from mid-morning until late afternoon in May, and so many years of sun has turned what must have once been dark wood into a faded gray. But the fence also has a line of horizontal two-by-fours about a third of the way to the top, which seems to be the ideal combination of...| The Last Word On Nothing
The repetition of this post, which first ran on April 5, 2021, and then again almost exactly a year ago, is out of my hands. I go outside for my morning walk, brooding on my bad habits; I look around the garden to see what’s not working now; and oh glory, oh sweet child of joy, the minor bulbs are blooming, they’re flourishing (“flourish,” from “florire,” to flower), they’re yelling all over the garden. How can I not?| The Last Word On Nothing