In Maine, we hunker down in winter, we turn inward, do heavy work on the soul, and then summer surprises us, like a nostalgic and blissful childhood memory. The ocean calls and we jump head first into the icy waters and soak in the salt that heals all wounds. The air is sweet with pine and salt and moist with morning fog.
The country between me and Maine is vast today as I am slapped in the face with a hot wind and the ground underneath my feet is cracked open, gasping for moisture. The clouds spat a few raindrops on a few blades of grass for a few seconds, then nothing. How can my mom be putting cups of beer out to drown the slugs in her wet garden while ours is dusty and the once green petals of nasturtiums are yellow?
It's not all bad, though. I've been learning a great deal about prairie plants and enjoying the friendly folks with whom I work. Here are many pictures from the nature center this spring -- I'll try to get back on the horse and post more frequently now that the heat has rolled in and I have air conditioning blasting on my back while I do this blog post! Much love.
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