Droplets slice

Gardening in autumn is weird. I’m in a flannel shirt and wool socks, moving plants, pulling others out of the ground, recomposing the flower beds for how I want them to look next gardening season. There aren’t green sprouts to get excited about like in spring. I’m working as the weather gets colder instead of … Continue reading Droplets slice

Oysters steam

You have to be careful of oyster shoals when you navigate a salt marsh at mid-tide. At low tide, the oyster beds are exposed above water, so there’s not much worry of running your hull over them and scratching it all to pieces. At high tide, the water is deep enough over where you’d be … Continue reading Oysters steam

Blue water

Blue water. The deepest seas. Where there’s no white sand below to make the water aquamarine, or sea grass to turn it green, no marsh mud and nutrients to make it murky brown. Blue water is the desert of the ocean: too far from land, and too deep, for sediment or nutrients. It is the … Continue reading Blue water

Cumulus

Cumulus clouds are my favorite: white piles of shaving cream in snappy blue skies. They portend thunderstorms on summer days and are crisp like bright laundry on a Minnesota clothes line. Cumulus clouds are summer on the coast of Georgia and the state of Florida. On August days in Savannah, we could set our watches … Continue reading Cumulus

Grit

Grit scratches. It roughs the surface. It scrapes knees, breaks seed coats. It is unyielding. It changes things. Grit is tiny shards of glass, slicing through surfaces, glittering, sharp and bright. Grit disrupts. Grit is one of my favorite words. In the same way physical grit scrapes and scratches, internal grit has the power to … Continue reading Grit