The vast grassland stretched out into a perfect spring day. An eagle soared, a heron and egret fished. I needed nothing else from the world for just that moment.
A Swamp, A Refuge
The first time I visited Fernhill Wetlands was in late December of 2016, during the presidential transition period. A thick mist shrouded the ponds and streams, and in hindsight, I should have known that the opaque fog was a portent to the darkly bizarre and disorienting year ahead. The cold seeped in around my insulating layers, … Continue reading A Swamp, A Refuge