By Talking with Trees I've learned a few things. Stories don't grow straight. Neither do roots. They twist and tangle, whisper beneath dirt. Sometimes, something wonderful grows from something rotten. I call it a mulched root. I like strange things. Wild things. Things that won't fit boxes. Here, I write about children's literature, poetry, trees, memory, and what grows beneath the surface. Some of it is about writing. Some of it is about being human. And some of it is about listening to trees.
Wednesday, July 27, 2022
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