A note to Eartha Kitt --- Dear Ms. Kitt, I've long admired the character of you. Your song. Your acting. Your spirit. And now, your love of nature; it was the one thing that I'd not known about before. And now I do. I loved your story about your experience as a child, being one that roamed and explored, easily happy in being alone. And I was like that, and I am like that. And I did (and do) love the hymenoptera: the vespid(ae), the solitary and paper wasps, the masons. All of them in that...

I'm looking for paths. The turning --- Every thing turns and spins in its order. What, that? I've been out, looking at the stars, pondering the turning. Listening to the water, waves like a river, riffling. It's turning, that tide, a worldly whirl, that I sense, this moment. And this dark morning, I wonder about that dawn; she's now far away -- but coming, in brilliant light, later this morn as she did, yesterday looking east in the rising. Seeing that was a turning for me, pondering that...

Taking flight : NYC -- Bye Bye! Happy Sunday ! ---- T ---- the Day: Autumnal Autumnal. Of all adjectives associated with seasons, this is the only one that has a literary ring to it - perhaps because autumn is our only season word that comes from Latin and not from Germanic sources. We salute the adjective today on the first day of autumn (or fall, if you want to be all Germanic, all the time) in the northern hemisphere.

LOOKING : FOR LIGHT ---- Aren't we all looking for light, looking into the light? Seems that way. I look in the light and I look into the dark. I live in both of those presences. That which illuminates, that which darkens. What I'm about, what I'm exploring is all about that -- like a true geminarian, the search for the balance between one, and the other -- and the mist in between. So I think about that, the light, the dark, the mist. and I'm drawn to all this. And I look for it, to be there,...

flying to eastern washington | storm emergent stormfinder --- out there when you are storm comes wind bound rain cast force driven I go there see that love that into the heart of storm unknown swirling whirl, into the soul of the whorl I go there will be there, in the eye Photos by Tim Girvin of it. ---- 11000 ft. south central washington | tsg

Stone, found. I was working with the Reynvaan family on a project for their vineyards, and I'd been walking the ancient stone scattered grounds of their viticultural lands, with them. This land is powerful; this land is their land; this land is at the very heart of their work -- the grape, distilled. This terroir is a matching geology to the rough scrabble of the classic vineyards of Spain and certain regions in France; these stone bound regions create a version of growth that is strengthened...

Missed. There's a missing, in mist. But the beauty lies in what's not seen, scene, known. What I look for, is what's not there. But what is there, but not seen. There's something beneath. All ways. That's what I look for. Photos by Tim Girvin Where sky meets water, mist conjoins, miracle -- redound. ---- waves come back ---- [Origin: 1350 1400; ME redounden < MF redonder < L redundāre to overflow, equiv. to red- red- + undāre to surge (deriv. of unda wave; cf. undulate); cf....

The recluse Since I was young, I've been attracted to the alone. That is, places that are lonely. And, too, being alone. People say -- how can you be alone? Isn't it...lonely? How can you travel by yourself? While I love being in, with other people, I also savor being alone. Being silent. Speaking nothing. I think this came from a time when I was young, that being alone was common and that exploring, finding things, objects in nature, engaging in fantasy was a common examination and play....

Finding fire. Liquid heat. Isn't that something, the character of flame, found -- licking and consuming; hungry and self nourishing? Shooting fire is a compulsion (along with starting fires). I like the study of fire -- watching it closely. But, like anything, it's hard to shoot, it keeps moving. And sparks, like... life. Easy to be consumed. Find fire, your self. Photos by Tim Girvin --- T

Note to Greg Furman | The figured wheel by Robert Pinsky G. thanks for sharing this rich piece of writing, soulful, tormented, yet clear, in vista... his sweet self Which he hereby unwillingly and inexpertly gives up, because it is There, figured and pre-figured in the nothing-transfiguring wheel. Isn't it so, then that the spinning wheel... really changes nothing -- because it is change itself? That it rolls and moves and crushes, ornamented and made of the minerals of being, dust motes in...