By early December there was not much snow, and by the end of the December there was not any snow. I took a long walk on a day between then and now. A walk in the far north in winter…
Winter Walks …by Damon Falke
Tag: Damon Falke
Marking Time …by Damon Falke
It was around the first of October that the leaves on the birch trees began to blow away. I looked out of the window one morning and saw that leaves had gathered at the side of the road. I saw…
That Season of Beginning …by Damon Falke
“Still, he could not help noticing what was in the air, and feeling some of its influence in his bones.” The Wind in the Willows On August 12th this year, I noticed the season turning. That afternoon I went outside…
Weeds …by Damon Falke
I made you take time to look at what I saw and when you took time to really notice my flower, you hung all your own associations with flowers on my flower and you write about my flower as if…
Book Notes …by Damon Falke
Unless by the force of eloquence they mean the force of truth: for then I do indeed admit that I am eloquent. But in how different a way from theirs!–From The Apology of Socrates by Plato Every passion borders on…
An Everyday Life …by Damon Falke
I woke up today and made a cup of tea. It’s a little after 4:30 AM when I do this. It’s dark outside, but I look anyway. In another couple of months the sun will be shining through my kitchen…
All the Golden Lands… by Damon Falke
I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till I drop. –Jack Kerouac, On the Road And still I look, certain you’ll leave me –Richard Hugo, “Upper Voight’s, To All…
The North … by Damon Falke
Perhaps light is the first thing that appears when I think of this place, light, the way it textures the world here. True, I see places where I have camped and fished and walked and drank coffee. I see cairns…
Real Silence… by Damon Falke
I woke up early this morning. Early is 3:30 am, this after an 11:30 bedtime. I sometimes hear people talk about how they can’t sleep. I wonder if they mean what I mean when I say that I can’t sleep.…
The World Made Flesh… by Damon Falke
There is much I will never write. This is a promise I have made to myself and to others. It is easy to imagine myself in one place or another, with a fly rod in my hand and another river…