“Mushrooms galore, much snow in store. No mushrooms at all, no snow will fall.”
It’s a flirtation of wild asters and jewelweed and bawdy goldenrod. The sky is as blue as the Madonna’s robe and the sun is hot, but wake up early the next morning, and dew has dampened that tablecloth you left on the patio table. The cicadas still thrum in late afternoon, but you notice the songbirds are silent. Silent and gone.
Someone once said that dance is our most atavistic artistic expression. We all want to do it. We are shy about dancing in public for fear of judgment. We all do it when alone.
Reich is highly regarded as a national expert, but even more exciting is the fact that he’s a local! He knows our pain. How can we trust an expert from New Jersey, or worse, someone from California (who is probably just a surfer) with our delicate apple blossoms? We can not.
For many parents, news that their child has “special needs” is delivered at the public school parent teacher conference, a place where the atmosphere is a lot like that of Rick’s Cafe in the movie Casablanca. Crowded. Noisy. Anxious.
Some days it’s a snow globe, others a wet mess, but always an economy
These late warm days are heavy with the perfume of goldenrod and sweet grass. Soon enough there will be wood smoke in the morning air. The lines are gone from the supermarket and the deli. Without the crowds, I get to see my neighbors there.
My connection to my children is ongoing and strong. But that golden time in my life is over…
Greene County rolls up from the Hudson River, north of Kingston and south of Albany, to some of the highest
Elisabeth Henry comes to terms with big machines The spring was already there, bubbling over rocks to a small