ON THE BRINK OF WINTER

upon it and go: “Oh my God, what the hell? These giant redwood trees. . . What are they doing here? How are they growing so well?”

Hopefully people will think about how, back in the day, an artist and his scientist friends did this experiment when climate change was really starting to accelerate—a positive gesture that there might be a future. Climate change and global warming are catastrophic, but I think it's on us to reimagine how we're gonna deal with it, as opposed to just freaking out and hiding under the bed.

In hours, we’ll be starved of sun, and tomorrow, even earlier so. Our fingers will be colder, and our toes will grow numb a little quicker. We’ll wake to snowflakes and sleep to the creaks of the wood stove, but for now we fill our pockets with unborn daffodils, our baskets with garlic cloves, tuck them into the earth while it’s still light. Sleep will feel so sweet, as will the waking; hunkered down and waiting to be ready to lift our heads.

October 17, 2020

Two Harbors, Minnesota

ROUTES / ROOTS

Tony VanWinkle