i’ve been feeling a little like this cottonwood lately, hanging out there between earth and sky, between water and land, between fall and winter, between minnesota and france, between still blog and, well, whatever will come after still blog. i like the creative tension that comes with being somewhere in transition between certainties, but it’s tiring. i’m getting ready to be a fish, not a frog, an oak not a cottonwood, a blade of grass, not a reed. but not quite yet.

cottonwood tree branches hanging over a snow covered lake

sucker lake, saint paul, minnesota