What we have to learn from the land can begin with making oneself available to it, as a reader.
From a distance, the land east of the sidewalk (above) is mounded to separate where one lives from what one travels over. Of this land, much of it -- the topsoil, the sods over which it is placed, and the shrubs -- was imported.
Those familiar with the Okanagan Valley will know that the two holes pictured here were made by burrowing marmots. Those inclined towards creative and critical practices might imagine them as fang marks from institutions that, like most large houses of learning these days, have come to take their orders less from the land than from corporate models associated with private business.
Below are two pictures I took during Tania Willard's Congruent Bodies Bush Gallery presentation, the final presentation of what turned out to be both an emotional and fruitful third roundtable that asked the question: "What body memories and body futures are posited (and possessed) by your practice?"