October 2, 2009. This morning, as I walk down the road toward Crossfire, I barely avoid stepping on a small, silver-and-grey-winged butterfly sitting on the pavement, trying, I think, to warm itself after our first night of ice-on-the-dog’s-dish cold. The insect’s coloration matches that of surrounding gravel. Only its thin wings and their accompanying shadow tip me off in time. I veer. Very slightly, the upfolded wings lean away from my foot swinging past. It’s hard to not step on something that looks like a piece of your path. Continue reading “Field Notes #8”
Wilderness Interface Zone 