Crossings

A remark by the poet Wallace Stevens, that people inhabit their descriptions of a place more than the place itself, frames this collection. Franchot Ballinger turns to the Ohio River Valley and considers what it means to pay close attention while living there. Among the things he notices are the scent of spicebush, the masses of white blossoms that arrive with spring, and the bright autumn color that each dogwood takes on.

The author presents these sensory moments as the source of a rooted life. Such attention, he suggests, fastens a person to a particular landscape and holds them in the present moment.