harvest

 

the farmer who baled this hay mowed late, long after the nutrients were lowered. perhaps it is exactly what he wants.

 dusk

 this fence post was placed by the farmer. and the milkweed is a beautiful commentary on november. i harvest milkweed.   

sunset on the treeline

 soon after i arrive home these days.

my back yard toward the woods

i can hear the coyotes quite close tonight, they sound lonely, but i think they're fooling. they are most sociable. but the neighborhood dogs are paying attention tonight. i wonder why?

i have walked at night and heard their calls and shivered. 

she ignores coyotes. 

 but not wet grass

 or me.

 towards the adirondacks.

 jude hill spoke of trees and their fingers. i think of their arms, where i used to climb. i loved to sit in trees, until my father told me i was too old, and i had to sneak that pleasure.

 from some of the trees in this hedgerow i will harvest a few branches for paper, stripping and using their inner bark. slippery elm, maybe a hickory. basswood.

goodnight.