The Undiscovered Country

Like a planet in a faraway galaxy, my most local wildlife area was essentially light years away. I can see Willow Lake, part of Flushing Meadows-Corona Park, from my apartment window.

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Up a Creek

River, lake, estuary, fjord – these conjure majestic, pristine waterways. But I have a particular affection for the lowly creek. Like the black sheep of the family, the creek is not savored or preserved. It’s usually the place to dump things, and the place you don’t want to live near.

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Life on the Farm

I received my first diary for Christmas when I was eight. Writing was never a bother, but I never took to the practice of recording the happenings of each day despite my good intentions. Now I'm trying to change my ways by keeping a diary for the sake of my garden, to have an annual record of planting dates, vegetable yields, chores, and other such minutiae.

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