It ain’t ironic – shorties emancipate the calfs and call for adventure.
Like a conspiratorial merchant, blue can elide detail and flatten context within the pleasure it provides. Azure sky can be lustrous and turquoise water can be inviting – almost as if adjectives were more important than verbs. So much effort is expended understanding what the sky means, may mean, and has meant, that we forget our human capacity to survive the depravity of slightly less-warm mornings and hair-adjusting breezes.
Language shapes reality, and Earth shapes language. To expand that vocabulary, here’s an environmental neologism, a code used alfresco – an Alfrescode – to give voice to a particular phenomenon.
Upturned sawed spires mark trails and ways. Winter has turned redwood paws into looping flesh, gauged by the length of the trail now obscured and inaccessible. Human feet have cleared ways around the roots and between the split branches. Rather than obliterate the path, fallen trees suggest potential alternatives, albeit ungracefully. Though the established trail is not nearly so wide nor evident, the way to the next junction is nevertheless possible. Or, in the contemporary argot of conservationists, reduced network access to the outdoors is actually minimal when human ingenuity encounters natural processes.
Highway junction, Shelby, Montana: Big sky and open land merge endlessly, and the gray is all-encompassing. Continue reading “Shelby, Montana – Postcard from a Floating World”
Curiosities and small thoughts must lead somewhere… Here’s a few sophistries to give pollen a different meaning this week:
Certainly, without her presence, she would never quite understand. A gash had opened, but my body was safe, so I couldn’t cut her attention.