Writing

I showed up knowing little about the writing workshop other than its title, “Reading Nature.” To my surprise, we revisited the basic process of learning how to read, then applied this crucial skill to our immediate surroundings: an unassuming classroom overlooking an old-growth forest. Ultimately, I felt deeply welcomed into the room, swept into the story of a unique and celebrated community center. . . Every fluorescent flicker, leaf flutter and squeak of a shoe was food for

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