I Go to The Fields and Bow to the Single Hawthorn

The title of this post is the line my publisher chose to introduce Tell the Turning on Kickstarter. It’s from a poem called Kin.

Because of 214 generous and interested humans (as of this writing), Tell the Turning will become a real, physical book this autumn. The process of funding the book has proceeded much like the process of making the book: quietly, joyfully, non-stressfully. Family, friends, friends of friends, and new friends have backed this book, telling each other about it along the way.

Network is the word I reach for automatically to describe this phenomenon. But the metaphor is wrong. I prefer kin.


The pictures above and below came from my fields, earlier this week. It’s always rewarding to walk there at dawn, but early to mid-summer is, objectively, the glorious season. The grass is reaching for my hips; 2-inch-high daisies and 20-foot-tall hawthorns blossom in white; the edge of day beckons like a ripe peach.

I’m allowing myself to imagine bringing Tell the Turning home to the fields, showing them what they have helped me create.

I don’t think, precisely, that they will care. (What do I even mean by “they?”) But their indifference to the written word is a friendly one. I do think they are always glad to have me there, observing and praising and thanking. Tell the Turning may feel to me like a field offering in written form, but the offering my fields want—if indeed they want anything from me—is my careful presence.

This, I promise faithfully to continue holding out to my sacred places, as long as I may.


If you would like a copy of Tell the Turning, please head over to its Kickstarter page before Saturday at 10am PST. We’re in the final 48 hours of funding, and we would love to have you join us.

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