The part of me that is still a little girl in pigtails running barefoot in the central Pennsylvania hills is awakened by the beautiful essays, poetry, and photos on Dave's blog Via Negativa. It's almost as if I've stepped through a magical window into the past reading about picking high bush blueberries and the luminescence of the deer's ears in the sinking sun. Once more the summer days are endless, I can't catch poison ivy even if I bathe in it, and there's a new wonder to be found behind the gnarly trunk of every white oak.
If you think a little girl like that might be lurking in your psyche, make sure you visit Plummer's Hollow.
Rose
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