“It’s a funny thing about bogs. You can fill them with rocks and sand and old logs and make a little fenced-in yard on top with a woodpile and chopping block — but bogs go right on behaving like bogs. Early in the spring they breathe ice and make their own mist, in remembrance of the time when they had black water and their own sedge blossoming untouched.”
Tove Jansson, The Summer Book

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Today we’re taking a field trip to a local bog. In all seasons.

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WINTER (DEC & JAN; no visits in FEB/MARCH)

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SPRING (APRIL, MAY, JUNE)

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On Earth I had been held, honeysuckled 
not just by honeysuckle 
but by everything — marigolds, 
bog after bog of small sundews, 
the cold smell of spruce. 
— Claire Wahmanholm, from “Where I Went Afterward"

SUMMER (JULY, AUGUST, SEPT)