Writing

Our shared life has been an exchange. When we feel a wind of interest, a creative image unleashed, an extra dose of energy to try again, it is a friendly, good-natured echo of you. . . You left behind an orange tree heavy-laden with fragrant fruit every spring, an avocado tree stretching into the sky, a passionfruit vine tangled and strong, a hibiscus plant as thick as a curtain. You leave behind us.

In a variety of outdoor spaces, from state parks to urban farms to constructed wetlands, I was drawn in by a sense of kinship to our interconnected world. . . No doubt, I’ll keep writing about what being a beloved naturalist means to me as I continue to search, to recognize, to form partnerships, to thoughtfully steward. What I know for sure is that it’s not a lonely journey. And it can be refreshing, welcoming and fun. Here are a couple poems I wrote during two of our field

A short story set in Southern Appalachia, where young Amos must confront his own tendency to violence amidst a small town rife with both discouraging injustice and inspiring examples of compassion.