Collection: Archeology / Landscapes

“How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.”
— Annie Dillard

If you dig, wander long enough, if you suspend your disbelief — things show up. Things that have stories and dents ... sometimes there are fossils. Sometimes there are omniscient clouds because, well, the sky is the keeper of secrets and know-how. Or there are bones and marrow and at the heart of it all: moss and spring dirt and salt water. Weeds, rubble — subjective terms for things I might call holy in the right light. Gathered together, we make up some wild pack of questions and footprints. And occasionally, when I stop to hear a train whistle, I think about traveling — as a way to see more. But then, I get caught up by looking down — I follow some trail made by parched earth, or the slither of what has crawled from one blade of grass to another. I see something stamped with the assurance of forever when I go to the sunset, and I pray to high tide.