The dark green leaves of the vine-laden, twisted old ash tree are twinkling in the light after the sudden rainstorm. Beyond it, down by the creek, the ancient willow stump is fat and full with graceful, slender branches rising directly out of the gnarled core. July at Rolling Ridge has meant an outpouring of untamed green life, driven by capricious skies: nourishing downpours giving way to brilliant sun, and back again. It’s a changeable season, unpredictable; and that seems of a piece with affairs on all levels of our world right now. Whereas the rockiness of the wider, political world foments distress and anxiety, the topsy-turvy tumble of rain and light in our small nook of the universe gives rise to exuberant foliage and riotous green life. The Earth holds it all, the trouble and the joy, but it is hard to find footing.