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Beginner's Heart
calling the trees by name
By
Britton Gildersleeve
I name my trees when I plant them: Ramses, Henry, Scarlett, Daphne. My car has a name, and like T.S. Eliot, I believe cats will tell you their names. IF you pay attention. My sister and niece are still waiting for ‘Cat’ to tell them hers. Names are, as so many cultures know, power. A…
leafturn, oceanstill
By
Britton Gildersleeve
It’s autumn, when life begins to slow. Sap draws down, and other than the frenzied cheek-stuffing of squirrels, outside seems quieter. Except for the explosions of colour beginning to detonate. Today, I’m writing from a dear friend’s home, looking out over the infinitely beautiful valley below her wall of windows. Mostly evergreens, but the deciduous trees…
thinking of lost boys
By
Britton Gildersleeve
When I hear of the serial murder sprees — all done w/ guns — that plague America, I think of my sons. Not always first, but always. Probably too self-referential, I identify with the mothers of children slaughtered in Sandy Hook, executed in Umpqua, annihilated in Charleston. Who ends a phone conversation with a son or daughter…
pebbles, lobsters, and priorities
By
Britton Gildersleeve
I went to brunch with my beloved yesterday, to celebrate our zillionth (happy!) anniversary. It was beyond heavenly: all kinds of food I never make (my beloved & I have verrrry different ideas about food!). Like, crab claws (he hates shellfish; I adore it); baby shrimp salad; smoked salmon & trimmings; and an entire smörgåsbord of…
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