This is my work: to sit quietly in the open air and watch a grosbeak walk sideways along the thinnest branches of the longest limbs of the tallest oak tree, his throat a crimson banner blazing in the afternoon sun. It is also my peace. © stephanie g pepper, 2023
Tag: nature
when rain falls
No matter how far
I carry myself
or where I land,
I’ve no doubt that when,
deep into the dry summer,
rain
begins to fall and
thunder
tumbles across the
sky
you will find me on my
porch
with a sweating jar of
sweet tea
muttering, “mm-hmm, we needed this.”
make a river
How many drops make a river where silver bellied fish flash in the sun? How many make the puddle in the pothole where a robin splashes in the rain? For that matter, how many make this mug, make this spoonful, make a cup, make a kettle? How many make a spring storm, that soaks the winter weary earth? Don’t ask about the ocean-- it’s futile to guess. So. What is one more drop, or another tear that falls?
©stephanie g pepper, 2022
wrapped: reading list, v.2021
Poetry:
Window Poems, Wendell Berry
Conamara Blues: Poems, John O’Donohue
100 Poems, Seamus Heaney
Conflict Resolution for Holy Beings: Poems, Joy Harjo
The Selected Poems of Wendell Berry, Wendell Berry
Given: Poems, Wendell Berry
Devotions: The Selected Poems of Mary Oliver, Mary Oliver
Bright Dead Things: Poems, Ada Limón
The Mad Farmer Poems, Wendell Berry
The Kingdom of Ordinary Time: poems, Marie Howe
Breathing the Water, Denise Levertov
Entries: poems, Wendell Berry
Red Suitcase, Naomi Shihab Nye
Station Island, Seamus Heaney
What Do We Know: poems and prose poems, Mary Oliver
Scrambled Eggs & Whiskey: poems 1991-1995, Hayden Carruth
How to Fly (In Ten Thousand Easy Lessons), Barbara Kingsolver
Dearly, Margaret Atwood
Nonfiction:
Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, Annie Dillard
Big Magic, Elizabeth Gilbert
Journal of a Solitude, May Sarton
A Sand County Almanac and Sketches Here and There, Aldo Leopold
The Home Place: Memoirs of a Colored Man’s Love Affair with Nature, J. Drew Lanham
Wild Mercy: Living the Fierce and Tender Wisdom of the Women Mystics, Mirabai Starr
Standing by Words: essays, Wendell Berry
Leaving Church, Barbara Brown Taylor
Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teaching of Plants, Robin Wall Kimmerer
The Beginner’s Photography Guide, Chris Gatcum
If Women Rose Rooted: a life-changing journey to authenticity and belonging, Sharon Blackie
It All Turns on Affection, The Jefferson Lecture & Other Essays, Wendell Berry
Women Who Run With the Wolves, Clarissa Pinkola Estés
The Body Knows the Way: Coming Home Through the Dark Night, Gordon Peerman
Appalachian Reckoning: A Region Responds to Hillbilly Elegy, edited by Anthony Harkins and Meredith McCarroll
Wild Like Flowers, The Restoration of Relationship through Regeneration, Daniel Firth Griffith
The Long-Legged House: essays, Wendell Berry
Late Migrations; A Natural History of Love and Loss, Margaret Renkl
The Power of Now, Eckhart Tolle
Fiction:
Fidelity: Five Stories, Wendell Berry
Fahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury
The Memory of Old Jack, Wendell Berry
The Once and Future Witches, Alix E. Harrow
The Wild Birds: Six Stories of the Port William Membership, Wendell Berry
Remembering, Wendell Berry
Circe, Madeline Miller
A World Lost: a novel, Wendell Berry
the winter wren
This morning I had a long conversation with a winter wren. I’m not sure what passed between us, exactly, only that something did. Something that left me feeling joyful… giddy, almost… and definitely delighted. All afternoon I considered this, and wondered why such a secretive little bird would call me out for a chat, which, clearly, she did, kit-kittering loudly all around me until, at last, I called out “hello, Little One,” and rose to find her in the undergrowth. She did not startle and fly away at my approach, but studied me quite carefully as I spoke. Neither was she injured, as she crept around under the rocks and hopped among the tangled thickets, a worm dangling from her fine, sharp beak, chittering all the while. And now, night has fallen fully, and the moon peers out behind the clouds, and I—delighted and grateful—am no closer to knowing what, exactly, passed between me and the winter wren.
©stephanie g pepper, 2021
on a sabbath walk
I need no human voice
to tell of you–
only a chorus of
birdsong and the
wind in the trees
©stephanie pepper, 2020
