OUR CATEGORY : Diane Buchanan

The Warp and Woof

Grass is the cloth of the prairies, a pattern of roots woven underground. In darkness threads of fescue, vetch, old man’s whiskers, needle and spear, porcupine, brome and bluegrass twine and entwine to bind the earth together. Grass emerges like the tip of an iceberg in a land too dry for forests, too wet for […]


I’ve passed this slough everyday on my walk around this country block. It’s hard to ignore, though I have, too busy wading in my own marshy thoughts, until – one day I see gold. A blackbird with a bright yellow head. I can’t resist. I stop to kneel, to be still, to be one with […]


There’s loneliness here today. Tall stems of sedge chafe on unpredictable breezes. A month ago the bulrushes held dark heads high above the grasses, now they are grey and moulting. Scent of tickle, mildew and musk ride the surly air. No green here, only a dry, wizened brown beneath a sky feathered in clouds, the […]