I wanted to display this picture because I had just heard from Whispering Angel Magazine, saying that they accepted a story of mine. And it happened while on vacation to Taos, NM, which is the site of my favorite author’s—D.H. Lawrence–memorial chapel.
I’ve been using the word indigenous lately. That’s because, in the end, we couldn’t stand watching all the naturally occurring wild flowers be scraped away from the earth, never to return. “Developers” came with their big, ugly bulldozers and made way for their “McMansions” which brought in the most snobby, stuck-up group of people I’ve ever known. What was a sleepy town/suburb of Philadelphia–Media, PA– turned out to be a special kind of hell on earth. Michael had just been born and I stood at the window, holding him in my arms, watching this spectacle slowly unfold. The interesting part of this is that I never considered myself a nature lover; that’s because I took what grew around me for granted. So here we are. There are so many mountains around us that bulldozers couldn’t possibly ruin what has become precious to me and Peter. As we drive around, alongside open meadows and thick forests I watch what’s growing. Right how I have three small vases on the porch, filled with phlox, honeysuckle, and wild grasses and sometimes I go out on the porch and look at them. As the summer goes on, there will be many other indigenous plants and flowers to fill the vases.
lgmwriting 