Synopsis
The poet Wallace Stevens said, “We live in the description of a place and not in the place itself.” Franchot Ballinger shares his experience of the Ohio River Valley, what it means to live aware in a place, to see and smell spicebush, to see the profusion of spring white and the brilliance of autumn leaves on each dogwood. These experiences are what roots one in place. They anchor the reader to Here and, therefore, also to Now.
