by Lindsay McLaughlin | Sep 24, 2016 | Uncategorized
Photography by Joy Houck Bauer The first mist in many months appeared and lingered all morning, curling among the trees and around the garden and sheep shed. Everyone knows I have long loved this insubstantial Being: an interim element, neither air nor water. Around...
by Lindsay McLaughlin | Sep 10, 2016 | Uncategorized
It rained early one morning, a brief respite in the dry spell; not a determined rain at first, it fell softly, a low patter in the canopy. Nevertheless it was a presence, a caress on my jacket and the stony path, gentle droplets condensed somewhere in the pale...
by Lindsay McLaughlin | Aug 23, 2016 | Uncategorized
A March day in 2013: A freak storm had dumped a foot of snow on our mountain. Two days later, the strong spring sun transformed the snow into sparkling creeks and glistening pools. As I walked down into the creek valley behind our house, I heard an eerie racket,...
by Lindsay McLaughlin | Aug 8, 2016 | Uncategorized
After days under a sultry blanket, the woods and the air all around this morning swirled with wafts of coolness, and Billy and I decided that the day called for a walk. As we walked up the path called Peachey Trace, trailed by our cat Olive, patches of light and...
by Lindsay McLaughlin | Jul 15, 2016 | Contemplations
I cannot cause light; the most I can do is try to put myself in the path of its beam. (Annie Dillard) Ring the bells that still can ring. Forget your perfect offering. There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in. (Leonard Cohen) It’s summer, the...
