Down by the river, Plantain and Rabbit Tobacco are greening the banks as the Cottonwoods finally unfold into full leaf. The days are hot now, and the sand burns my bare feet when I run from one cool spot to the next, trying to escape sunburn by only walking slowly in the welcome shade of trees and cliff walls. On the way home, I see snake trails twisting through the path and raccoon tracks at the river’s edge. At one crossing, I find a spray of feathers at the water’s edge signaling a struggle of some kind. Just before the long climb up the mesa, I find strips of skin and fur tangled in the Lupine and Draba and I crouch to touch my fingers to it. To think of life lost and life found, eaten, regained.
I’ve been mostly gone for the last three days, and ended up making an emergency trip to the city yesterday. So I’m tired, and little cloudy headed from lack of sleep and non-stop moving and I’m sorry if I haven’t responded to your email or comments yet. I’m getting there, and I actually hope to have a semi-normal day tomorrow in which I get some of my scheduled work done and have a little quiet time with the river and alders too. For now, I’m eating blueberries, cream and coconut milk with cardamom, homemade vanilla extract and other spices. It’s amazingly good and rich and a lovely way to slow down and sink back into being ~here~.
Outside, the world has faded to silhouettes and stars. Inside, the shadows are wound round with sad, sweet music and the scent of flowers infused into hot water. Banjoes and roses and the wind that tugs at every window, like some faerytale I’ve walked into, and found myself finally, at home.