There's something about writing about place, of the natural world, of surroundings and the marking of season. With a few weeks left in New England before I move to California, I've noticed the thick green forests, mountains and hawks above nearly every day on my long drives. The last week has brought turkey, deer and bear sightings, and a trip to Maine where forests and ocean met. This time of year feels like the birth of summer, of promise and daylight and so much new life. The peace these sights bring can only be matched by writing of these places. I know I can return to the poetry and visual imagery describing these places if homesickness strikes on the west coast.
My mom and I are driving my car west in mid-July and will spend two days and nights in South Dakota. A year or two ago I bought
Dakota at a used book sale and Kathleen Norris' imagery describing the region reminded me of the meaningful imagery of my own state and region. An excerpt I enjoyed:
"The so-called emptiness of the Plains is full of such miraculous "little things." The way native grasses spring back from a drought, greening before your eyes; the way a snowy owl sits on a fencepost, or a golden eagle hunts, wings outstretched over grassland that seems to go on forever."
