There is something reassuring about the waltz of a field of goldenrod in the late summer - the bees and the breeze and the slow mirage of time like heat rising off a curving road winding high into the mountains. A feeling that the moment might be capturable, maintainable, fixed in a golden memory. The in-between moments in the seasons are my

There is something reassuring about the waltz of a field of goldenrod in the late summer - the bees and the breeze and the slow mirage of time like heat rising off a curving road winding high into the mountains. A feeling that the moment might be capturable, maintainable, fixed in a golden memory. The in-between moments in the seasons are my favorites. When the blinding heat of summer is fighting the giving way to gusty autumn evenings and bright crisp mornings. As much as I enjoy the tension of those moments in nature, I am less of a fan of it in my own life. Change - even chosen, planned for change - is incredibly difficult for me. My fears always seem to center on “what else is going to change in my life if I go through with this? Who and what might I lose?”. Moving through change and fear and continuing to find stability inside those moments feels key to me. “Goldenrod” holds both certitude and utter fear in the same broad armed embrace.