Floyd Skloot
Tangled
Time in the Sierras Subbéticas
All week a caretaker started hacking the hillside with his weed whacker at dawn. Its fierce buzz drove us, bleary with olive pollen and summer heat, out to walk through groves and whitewashed village homes as the sun rose. On the foothills road we stepped aside for a baker’s pickup, its load of fresh loaves …
Wet Light
After five days of autumn rain and early nights the wind-rippled surface of this empty street glimmering as clouds part for a moment has become the wake of a ferry I remember from childhood the shimmer of wet light on the deck as we crossed the river toward home my father with his arm holding …
Something to Marvel At
As Beverly and I walked down the sodden creekside trail, sounds of traffic from Interstate 84 behind us became the sound of Latourell Falls ahead of us. The transition was complete when the creek bent east, opening to a sudden view of the falls. We stopped to watch its 250-foot plunge down the north side …