I’m blogging again from deep in the wooded Sierra foothills, between Sacramento and Reno. It was a beautiful, sunny Spring day here. At sundown, there were wild turkeys calling from the crown of a hill to the northwest. It all makes me wish I had one of Gary Snyder’s books of poems with me.
Rocks the same blue as sky
Only icefields, a mile up,
are the mountain
Hovering over ten thousand acres
Of young fir.