Three weeks ago, in late March, a friend and I spent an exhilarating afternoon in her woods outside of Northfield. For me, the excursion was an object lesson in the importance of looking closer. Even though it appeared that nothing was growing, it turned out that nothing was farther from the truth. In nooks, on logs, under last year’s leaves, the forest floor was rife with new and colorful life.

A particular thrill was to see, for the first time, the short-blooming Scarlet Cups fungus. Judy had been telling me about them for several years, but they had never been in season when I was visiting. This year, the timing was perfect.

We also saw other shelf fungus, including Turkey Tail.

Even the sky that day revealed changing layers, grey from one direction, azure from another, with the Half Moon playing hide-and-seek behind breezy cloud vapors.

For me, the day taught me that it always pays to look more closely. Today, I am vowing to seek those dividends of delight.

Context for Poem “Echoes”:

This morning, I was thinking about how memories, even non-sonic ones, echo for me in the mind and heart. I have been looking over photographs in preparation for my daughter, Julia’s wedding, and some of these images have catalytic effects. Some help me recall people and places more than half-forgotten, while others show me things I did not perceive at the time–inside and outside the actual picture’s frame. The poem for today, “Echoes,” just sort of rose up out of a jumble of seemingly chance encounters with a particular important friend, someone who has a beautiful singing voice and who possesses the perfect echo chamber that she willingly shares.

Until tomorrow,

LESLIE