Back from a meeting of the science writers book club (we discussed Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants, by Robin Wall Kimmerer) I checked in on my daughters, and found Oliver and Erin already asleep. I went around the house shutting off lights and locking doors, and stepped outside to unplug the string of lights that hang in the carport. It’s not too cold tonight, clear, and the moon will be full soon. It’s bright outside, and so I pulled on my boots and took a walk.
I walk our land as often as I can, in the early mornings or during the day or as dusk settles, always looking for turtles or antlers or snakes or ferns. I love the woods beyond our house. Tonight, and a few nights last month, I walked out in the moonlight halfway down the slope, and stood still for a few minutes, just enjoying a new way to sense the land around me, and marveling at the moon shadows dappling the soft carpet of fallen leaves.
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