Author Archives: Theodora Goss

The Impressionists by Theodora Goss The first Impressionists were the trees — look how they reflect themselves in the water, broken up by the movement of the water, the branches darker, the leaves lit from above, reflected on the surface … Continue reading →

The Pond in Late Summer by Theodora Goss Today I went to the pond and saw some catfish moving under the water. The broadleaf arrowhead was blooming, its white flowers, arranged along a raceme and whorled by threes, three-petaled, looked … Continue reading →

The Beech Forest by Theodora Goss Underneath the trees there were beech leaves fallen the previous autumn. We walked over them hand in hand, each of us pensive, thinking about time and its passing, wondering what the future would bring, … Continue reading →

September Afternoon by Theodora Goss I cannot explain the glory of this world. There are no words adequate, no adjectives that would suffice — beauty, splendor, wonder — none sufficient to make you stop and rejoice, to throw up your … Continue reading →

A Trip to the Seashore by Theodora Goss You said the waves must love the strand: look how they reach for her, ceaselessly, ceaselessly stretching their hands, as though perhaps this time they might capture her in their translucent green … Continue reading →

The Wildflower Garden by Theodora Goss There is a bee busy in the purple tuft of the knapweed, perfectly happy — like me, actually, hidden among the Queen Anne’s lace and goldenrod, sitting and therefore as small as a child, … Continue reading →

The People Who Keep to the Paths by Theodora Goss There are people in Kensington Gardens who keep to the paths, walking straight, one foot in front of the other, like soldiers, upright, respectable. They are all, I am certain, … Continue reading →