SECTION ONE
PHOTO COURTESY: KRISSIE MASON
E D I TO R ’ S M E S S AG E | K R I S S I E M A S O N
My suburban townhome backs up to a steep southern
facing slope. It’s covered with large colonies of vetch and
leafy spurge; noxious invasive plants that drive the farm
girl in me nuts. Thistle, milkweed, and wild raspberry
make cameo appearances throughout. And this year a
new arrival; wily woodbine.
Suburbia is convenient; the way Applebee’s can be when
you can’t muster the energy to f ix a homemade meal.
Though neither is ideal for the outdoorswoman, or
foodie, circumstance grows on a person. Or maybe you
just learn to see differently.
Yes, it’s a far cry from being wrapped tightly in a star-lit
wilderness night, witnessing the prattling Summer re-
cital of a brisk mountain stream, or just about anywhere
there is dirt instead of pavement.
However, sometimes it’s not the location, nor size of
our encounters with the natural world, but that we get
to have them at all. In a culture presently distracted by
digital one-upmanship, false, or inf lated narratives, and
all things needing to be epic, most days all we need is a
small slice of wild and a scoop of gratitude. Or, maybe
I’m just speaking for myself.
Reframed: From my suburban deck spreads a sea of nat-
ural greens. A simple bird feeder hosts f inches, chicka-
dees, sparrows, and redwing black birds. Not the fanciest
dandies of songbirds, but steadfast, loyal visitors always
with tunes to share.
Small birch logs are stacked reminders of years hiking
to lakes and hidden falls in Northern Minnesota, (and
places far beyond), with family; bruises, blood, laughter,
peeing in the woods...and in our pants.
A rock shares space with the birch and this year’s potted
f lowers. The stone was hefted when my arms were
younger, from the shore of a wilderness lake where I
once owned a cabin. I paddled everyday then in a sleek,
fast kayak slipping through large swells. Catching f ish,
catching rays, and raising a little hell. My small dog
straddled the bow. She remains staunch and fearless. Her
name is Pip. I used to take my f irst morning cup on the
dock that hung over the water, that wet the rock that is
now on my deck, and I watched as the loon f ished port
side.
The deck holds a new Adirondack chair. It’s arm begs for
my pottery cup holding freshly pressed morning coffee.
The vetch is spreading nicely. The spurge is showy with
it’s tiny yellow f lowers. Won’t be long until the caterpil-
lar dines on the milkweed and a M onarch emerges. The
red wing blackbird whistles at me in my pajamas. He’s
such a f lirt. The Summer sun is rising. What a beautiful
morning to be outdoors.
Wishing you a Summer f illed with meaningful adven-
ture, both large and small.
Enjoy the issue.-km
HORIZONS | 05