Tag Archives: Field station
Time seems to move more quickly here and summer rushed past with amazing speed, trailed closely by autumn. As she begins to make herself known, her colors and smells trigger flashes of memories. One memory that seems to have left … Continue reading
Early morning in the garden of the field station.
Every year a march is going on. Tiny little frogs leave their tadpole tails behind, start breathing air and get the hell out of the water they have been swimming around since they hatched with thousands of siblings. A lot … Continue reading
A Plattbauch in the garden of the field station.