I was walking home from the farmers’ market one sunny Saturday morning when I happened upon this little moss orb, brightening first the sidewalk and then my palm, where it rolled in soft perfection. It made me feel unaccountably happy, and boy, did I need that joy. I sat on the stoop, admiring it for a while. Fast forward a couple weeks: a teen client wanted a crafty project and settled on teaching me how to make pom-poms. The yarn in the staff closet was a yellow-flecked green. After assiduously wrapping it around the tines of a fork, binding it off, sliding it free, and snipping loops all around, I held a fabricated replica, not stunning, but in the moment exciting enough that I reached for my phone to share this photo. Said teen appeared unimpressed. Even with the plants on my sill and the trees across the road, nature often feels a world away when I’m in my office. Its fluorescing brightness; its glowing grace. My endless need for those qualities. The silence in me that wants to exclaim.
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