In the middle of a rainy morning, I was at the muddy dead-end of a road, listening to a passionate young man who’s taken over the family farm, as he explained an argument he’s had with the road crew and plowing.
Over his shoulder, I stared at a line of tamaracks, their feathery branches ignited autumn gold.
What? he asked, seeing I wasn’t listening.
Tamaracks, I nodded.
He glanced over his shoulder for a moment, and then kept on with his explanation.
Let this be the silent word of the day: tamaracks, and their silent gold.
It should not be denied… that being footloose has always exhilarated us. It is associated in our minds with escape from history and oppression and law and irksome obligations, with absolute freedom…
― Wallace Stegner
Stony Soil Vermont 
They are so beautiful!
I’m going to try to remember this today when I feel discouraged by the state of our country, indeed our world…’tamaracks, silent gold’. I feel grounded by just thinking those words.
Thanks for reading!
love me some gold tams
‘Tis the gold tarm season….