local to local

Daily observations at or near Two Dot Spot, written by hand on the backs of postcards that record with ink and coffee a few minutes of the earth's orbit around the sun. The cards are physically mailed from Two Dot, Montana to those who have requested them...local to local. Ruth Marie Tomlinson


It occurs to me that much of what I observe, I have recorded already. Each year I look for the right words to describe the colors of a Great Plains’ sunrise, not just the color, but also the way color takes the sky. And each year I marvel at the the tone and character of bird songs. The meadowlark melody lines alone could fill pages. Antelope sightings produce a lexicon of descriptors. What is the point of these efforts, of these repetitions? I know the meditative quality of observation. The calm and total engagement it produces in me. But is there something more? Just before I sat down to write today, five antelope stepped up to the fence across the road one after another. They’ve looked so majestic in the distance with their white/tan patterning and proud-pronged horns, but up close I could see the wildness in their hair. Is my descriptive habit part of developing keener observation?