In the end, the only virtue that wolves need from us is honesty—regarding them, regarding us, and regarding our shared past. Only by seeing them as they are, as neither demon nor deity but as creatures worthy of our admiration, will we find tolerance with our own human character.
Excerpt from the book: The Wisdom of Wolves, Lessons from the Sawtooth Pack by Jim & Jamie Dutcher, 2018
Chapter 1:00— A Velvet Night Seeps Through the Cracked Window
Chapter 2:00— The Dog Dreams of Chasing Rabbits
Chapter 3:00— Awakening— Is it Morning?
(alternate title: Please, Let it Be Morning)
Chapter 4:00— Is the Appointment Today or Next Monday?
(alternate title: A Shopping List)
(alternate title: Scheduling a Car Inspection)
(alternate title: Childhood)
(alternate title: Why Would She Say That?)
(alternate title: Where Did I Put That Gift Card?)
Chapter 4:30— The Dog Goes Outside—
The Deer are Surprised, Quietly Resentful, Finally Resigned
Chapter 5:00— Hot Tea, Honey a Blanket and a Book
Chapter 6:00— Morning Coffee and Toast
Chapter 7:00— The Blue Light of Daybreak, Finally
(alternate title: Where is my Camera?)
(alternate title: The Deer are Outraged Again)
The name derives from “chackstones”—stones to be tossed. The knuckle, wrist, or ankle bones (astragals) of goats, sheep, or other animals also have been used in play. Such objects have been found in prehistoric caves in Kiev, Ukraine, and pictures of the game are depicted on jars from ancient Greece.
Excerpt from the entry: Jacks, The Encyclopaedia Britannica
“Solitude suits me. Sometimes I wear my old boots and my man’s coat and sometimes I put on silk, and no one’s any the wiser, and certainly not me.”
Excerpt from the book: The Essex Serpent by Sarah Perry, 2016
A feather’s not a bird
The rain is not the sea
A stone is not a mountain
But a river runs through me
Lyrics from the song, A Feather’s Not a Bird by Rosanne Cash, 2014
our lives
strike a balance between friendship
and love and loyalty—
we are positioned for direct and often indirect impacts,
even if most of the times we miss—
at least we can say
that we tried
tea with friends
naps in the sun
pecan cookies
midnight reading
impending storms
sandalwood incense
and crystals made of ice
nemophilist: (n.) a haunter of the woods; one who loves the forest and its beauty and solitude
on a walk, i collect things—
pointy things, tiny things, velvety petals, beautiful leaves, memories, wishes, small moments of peace and happiness
late into the winter,
the hellebores sprang from sleeping gardens—
and we marveled at their beauty and their hopefulness
spanishwoods 