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Field Notes

I’ve heard it said that the best musicians are those who must sing or must write music. I guess it follows that I write because I can’t not. It only recently dawned on me that my inner muse demands that I open up a notebook or my phone to capture thoughts. Many are pure musings—slightly self-satisfying and frequently foisted on my wife for her reaction.

All said, perhaps some of the pieces below will contribute to your deeper insight or another way to think about the world. You will find published pieces interspersed with my own regular observations.

And generally, the accompanying images are my own, serendipitously composed while wandering, driving, walking, and more.

Enjoy!

Latest Observation

{#45} Eagles in the Sky

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I had just flipped a U-turn at the top of South Fork Canyon and started heading back down when I saw it—first only a lazy V of a large, dark bird gliding above the road. Its slow, effortless steadiness convinced me it was a raptor. I watched it, curious, until it banked. That’s when the light caught its tail: a bright white flare against the darker mountain slope.

My heart lifted. My foot eased off the gas.

“Look at its tail lights,” my wife said—her perfect name for that bright white patch announcing exactly what we were seeing before the head ever came into view.

It rose and settled on the top of a tall spruce—a bald eagle perched like a sentry where we’d least expected it. It sat for a long moment, fully revealed: white hood, yellow beak, dark body, white tail, yellow talons. No hurry. No fear. Just quiet sovereignty.

Then it launched.

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{#45} Eagles in the Sky

{#45} Eagles in the Sky

I had just flipped a U-turn at the top of South Fork Canyon and started heading back down when I saw it—first only a lazy V of a large, dark bird gliding above the road. Its slow, effortless steadiness convinced me it was a raptor. I watched it, curious, until it banked. That’s when the light caught its tail: a bright white flare against the darker mountain slope.

My heart lifted. My foot eased off the gas.

“Look at its tail lights,” my wife said—her perfect name for that bright white patch announcing exactly what we were seeing before the head ever came into view.

It rose and settled on the top of a tall spruce—a bald eagle perched like a sentry where we’d least expected it. It sat for a long moment, fully revealed: white hood, yellow beak, dark body, white tail, yellow talons. No hurry. No fear. Just quiet sovereignty.

Then it launched.

Other Articles

{#12} Orphaned

{#12} Orphaned

I didn’t see it coming – but then I did. The forgotten passwords. Her TV began to go on the blink intermittently, never an explanation....

read more
{#3} Woodman

{#3} Woodman

I was standing at the grave of Richard Ezra Rapp, my great-grandfather, on Memorial Day 2019 and struck by the inscription on the top of...

read more

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