Mornings like this are why I love Spring in the Midwest: a glowing sky, filled with orange light yet threatening rain, o'erspreading the new green trees...it makes up for the fact that I had an absolutely ICY shower this morning. The sky is wide through my windows. (I'm sad I shal'n't have this room next year.) It makes me think of/ pine for travel. Below are a few pictures from my recent trip to the hill country of central Florida. I backpacked (solo) the state's longest loop trail and rode (both ways) its longest bike trail (with a stop at a strange, distant hotel between legs) and, in between these two jaunts, scorched myself on Clearwater Beach...I have hardly any skin left on me. Enjoy!
Popular posts from this blog
You’re a Loner If They Need You, If They Don’t You’re Just Alone (A Treatise on Loneliness)
As a child, I never had a problem being alone. In fact, I sought out alone time. I loved people, but years before I knew what the word ‘introvert” meant, I knew I was an introvert. I enjoyed being with my friends, and I had many of them, and I enjoyed being with my family in my house that was always somehow both boisterous and peaceful. But I also enjoyed going out to the yard to play solo baseball, concocting fantastic scripts where I was the star second-baseman of my team, The Mississippi Pac-men (because I had a baseball jersey with an M on it and also a Pac-man shirt). In the winter, it was football; I’d don my too-small Bears uniform and move through a season wholly independent of what was actually happening in the NFL. And all year round, I’d play basketball at the hoop on Roosevelt Place, winning games with last second shots and helping my imaginary three-on-three...
The moon casts an odd glow tonight. I feel far from home and untogether. Unread and underproductive. Loud and distorted.
Alone with dreams at two in the morning.
Full of thoughts too big.
I love my friends and feel thankful - despite everything, I'm never alone.
I am a teacher and I live what I do.
I am a writer, though sometimes I wonder where it all comes from and where it all goes, and I know it doesnt matter as long as I am moved by it.
Chris is a writer of the highest order...a real writer. Adam's work is full of a fascinating (though deeply cathartic) passion. Sarah has ideas but they go mostly unsung.
I have been so happy yet so longing.
There is more here...
In Brin's Woods I came close to saying it.
I've been to Switzerland and felt it and saw it, though only for fleeting moments. Does magic crystallize only in retrospect?
Find the one that lights the way for you.

Comments