Mike Freeman
@mfreeman
Rhode Island. Author of Neither Mountain Nor River (Riddle Brook) and Drifting: Two Weeks on the Hudson
Who Ishmael really is might be the great American imposter question, and too bad it’s not film, because we all know who America’s greatest fugitives are:
All the farm’s fallow fields droop with purple vetch now, in shape looking so much like herring spawn attached to sunken limbs.
Flushed a hen mallard while weed whacking a stonewall. Looked but didn’t look long. Flagged it off and won’t go near for some time.
Keep an eye out for turtle mums scoping nest sites this time of year, especially on roads. Almost ruined this poor soul with a mower today.
The Road of Roads with the Songs of Songs. Long walk with our oldest today. 14 warblers and tons of other stuff. Medicine.
Our freshman daughter’s history teacher is prone to lengthy digressions, putting them a full century behind the other history teachers, so we of course call him Uncle Colm.
The happy months. Walk our oldest endlessly in such places. Birds thickening up, tons of song. Willimantic, CT
Back to the farm this week. Catbird yesterday, two orioles and yellow warblers today. The Flood cometh.
My favorite yellow birch trio. Early yet, but the woods are waking. Titmice and towhees calling, saw a garter and a couple mourning cloaks, blueberries leafing. Just a bit more earth tilt and we’re there.
Funny/true. Just read it ironically. This passage toward the end (underlined) when the entire crew has resigned itself feels like it was written this morning about the GOP: