almost berry season
all spring and early summer it’s “almost berry season” until suddenly it’s post-berry season, and the voles and chipmunks and mice have eaten all the strawberries and the starlings and catbirds and robins and cardinals have eaten all the blackberries, and we have harvested a few scant handfuls and have vague memories of the abundance we had predicted in may.

ripe and unripe wild blackberries

i’m in palm springs
i’ve left behind one of the greenest minnesota springs i can remember for the california desert, and 100-plus degrees. trying to remember what i was thinking when i booked this trip. also actively hot flashing. little ice, please?

thistle

silver bullets

in america a silver bullet is an ice cold coors light in an aluminum can. in southern france it was an ice cold mackerel in a fishmonger’s tray. i have my preferences, which i will not disclose.

mackerel tails

going with the flow

these flowers stood tremblingly above the water of the orb river while the aquatic vines they grew from writhed in the current below. i’m sure mr. darwin could help me see why this particular niche had to be filled in this particular ecosystem, but i couldn’t see any natural advantage to it other than beauty. it was a good enough reason for me.

aquatic river weeds with blossoms

visible wounds

sometimes the shallowest wounds are the most visible. cut your finger, and every semi-stranger will ask about the band-aid. harbor a grief you can’t get past, and best friends might distantly suspect.

wounded mulberry plane tree leaf