Seasons -- Ellen Meloy
Writing from the Utah desert, Meloy broached subjects as diverse as elections, the dietary habits of snakes, lawn maintenance, the effect of Mozart on sheep, and lost city slickers as terrified of the wild as she would be if “lost at night in Brooklyn.” She presents every subject with both a wry wit and an uncommon common sense, crafting pieces that make you laugh, think, and feel in equal measure. It’s impossible not to be charmed by her description of the cricket in a closet singing nightly “love songs” to her husband’s boots or to regret the romanticism that makes visitors miss the best of Montana’s complicated, feral beauty. And her report that “the nightly news dumps an avalanche of misery and terror into my living room but says nothing about how I am to endure it,” is as true today as it was in 1996. But unlike the news, Meloy does tell us how to endure: recognize that “relation to the land is the core of home,” be attentive to “the contours that make the place somewhere, not just anywhere,” and “don’t carry a map to the mall, carry a bird book.”