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The morning of the first frost
The garden went silver overnight. A few notes on what survived, what didn't, and why the kale seems happier than ever.
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Walking the marsh loop at low tide
Three miles, two herons, one very muddy pair of boots. A slow walk along the old dike path.
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Why I still carry a paper notebook
On pencils, rain, and the habit of writing things down before they disappear.