Category Archives: adaptations

Avian Weeds

No, it’s not the Parthenon. Or something built by spendthrift emperors in Ancient Rome. This is the State Education Department building in Albany, NY. It’s really a magnificent building. Based on the greatest traditions of Western architecture, only on a huge … Continue reading

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Moss: City Green

I’ve lived within spitting distance of Albany NY for most of my life—and yet it’s a place I never go. Oh, I might go to the outskirts, the mall or the movie theater, but I rarely venture into the city … Continue reading

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Thistle: A Visit From a Poet

For those of you who celebrate Christmas, a certain poem was probably part of your upbringing, along with Frosty and Rudolph and all that sort of thing. You know the one I mean. You heard it, I heard it, we … Continue reading

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Thistle: Waiting for the Train

The Beacon train station. Waiting around for the train to New York City on a chilly damp day. It’s a long wait, and the train is running late, and the commuters are starting to grumble. Nothing to do but scout … Continue reading

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Moss: True North

I took a picture of this tree at high noon. Twelve o’clock. Why? To test an old piece of wilderness lore: the belief that moss grows on the north side of trees. Does it? Or not? If you’re lost in the … Continue reading

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Witch Hazel: Frozen Sweetness

A little cabin in the woods. Very, very Thoreau. A nice place to hide out and write. Last week I revelled in a writers’ retreat at the Highlights Foundation in Boyds Mills, PA. Anyway, outside my cabin was a gorgeous bush in full … Continue reading

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American Beech: Don’t Know When to Quit

Honesdale, PA. A day of bright sun at the Highlights Foundation at Boyds Mills, a wonderful writers’ retreat. Sunny and clear, but cold. Almost winter now. The leaves are all off the trees. The winter is coming, the branches are … Continue reading

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Trees: Beautiful Bones

I love November. Bare, brown, sparse, uncluttered. The gorgeous October foliage is long gone, crumpled underfoot. As one of my favorite writers, Anne Morrow Lindbergh, said, “Now let us see the bones, the beautiful bones of the trees.” The pattern … Continue reading

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Common Mullein: The Vertical Garden

The Schoharie Creek, at the bridge in Burtonsville, NY. So mild-mannered now, a calm little rural river minding its own business. But every now and then this quiet stream goes berserk and floods like crazy, toppling trees and destroying houses. They built … Continue reading

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Dandelions: On the Road

The road goes ever on and on.             Down from the door where it began.             Now far ahead the road has gone             And … Continue reading

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