Swing the axe In the hour before daylight Note the sparks That attend to the blade — Jeffrey Foucault, Dishes If I look over the top of my laptop screen, through raindrop-pebbled window panes, grass fronds feather sideways and tree branches flail against a backdrop of slate cloud curtains nestled among mountain layers. Copper leaves scud … Continue reading woodsmoke
She slowly emerges from the tall grasses at the lip of the crumbling fish ladder. Her head swings from side to side as she surveys the river corridor, all senses alert, scanning for threats. For the moment, she perceives none. The large male bears–boars, as they are called–that dominate this prime fishing spot are elsewhere. … Continue reading good mom
If you keep driving: beyond the outskirts, past the horses and hay bales, to the far side of split rail fences and civilization. If you keep going far enough, you enter God’s country. That phrase means different things to different people, I’m sure, but the land I speak of is this: Wide open spaces unmarred by … Continue reading beyond the country
Before I begin today’s post, I would like to extend a heartfelt thank you to those following my blog. Welcome to the world of coffee and woodsmoke. I appreciate your support and hope you enjoy your stay on these pages! The local grocery store here is called “Town & Country.” I reckon for many visitors … Continue reading town and country
An almost imperceptible shift in the light. A slant of golden, the earth’s turning reflected in sunflowers’ faces. The skies blue again after a good night’s wind and rain scrubbed the smoky haze that had descended over the mountains, stacking them like so many cardboard cutouts. Around the edges the air is cool, threaded with … Continue reading the old chokecherry tree (and raw apricot cheesecake)
Walking along an ice rink road riddled with puddles, there is a whisper in the air; an undercurrent. Spring is not here yet in the north country, but there is a promise in the breeze. Hold on just a little longer, says the wind to the buds that have begun to swell on the trees. … Continue reading perpetual motion
after the snow came the wind. after the wind came the rain. after the rain the whole world paused and was swallowed into mist. * * * The wind howls down the mountainsides under a starlight-pricked sky. Shrubs throw themselves against windows already shuddering from the gusts’ might, and I lay awake listening to the … Continue reading after the snow
