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    Art+Nature=Magic

    I wake up slowly on the second day of a writer’s retreat in the foothills of the Cascade Mountains in Washington State.  The morning is cool, the air gray and hazy.  Unzipping my tent, I’m surrounded by green.   Moss-covered trees flank rolling hills just beyond a forest where coyotes, mountain lions and wolves hunt in freedom.  In the clearing, I see that dandelion flowers have gone to seed, overnight changing from sun-yellow to moon-white to form hundreds of pale spheres.  Painted in the morning mist, they look like spirit flowers. My dreams from the night before were of water.  “Distill” was the word that came.  The story that I’m writing…