I meant to show you the Elk Thistle its crazy form, chalice shape, surprising softness. The deep purple florets and overwhelming abundance. The way they thrive in grainy soil, on roadsides on beat up land in injured places would appeal to you. I meant to see them with you Maybe somewhere in Montana, Wyoming, or Idaho Chanced on the roadside, or in a high mountain meadow; In the morning near the tent, after we'd got in and set up late— shining there in the early light, drenched in dew. Your gasp, and recognition at how even hard ground births beauty, and strength— as we tried to learn from one another, so well how to do.
Mmm, love this. It reminds me of the writer, Ross Gay and the way he loves to share in the delight of this world with others. You know him? I think you’d love him, as I do.
Way to tug at the tethers of my heart. Thistle, tents, love, places I love deep in my soul, and places I have yet to visit. Beautiful photo and beautiful poetry.
Mmm, love this. It reminds me of the writer, Ross Gay and the way he loves to share in the delight of this world with others. You know him? I think you’d love him, as I do.
Lovely! Why the name? I am guessing the elk love grazing it. Thanks for a sweet morning “Monet” moment!
Beautiful poem. Glad to know the name of that prickly thing too... and to learn of its resilience.
Gorgeous poem and photograph!
Way to tug at the tethers of my heart. Thistle, tents, love, places I love deep in my soul, and places I have yet to visit. Beautiful photo and beautiful poetry.