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The Upper Valley recently bore witness to a solar eclipse. While our region did not experience the full 100% totality, we came very, very close. When the sun was partially blocked, the warm day turned chilly. As the moon pushed through the path of the sun, the quality of light changed dramatically. Shadows became more pronounced. Everyone looked up. On the Green in Hanover, New Hampshire, the heart of Dartmouth College, students, faculty, staff, community members, and visitors gathered to share the experience. Students threw frisbees, small children ran around laughing, others were eating and drinking, groups of friends set up blankets, while others played music and still more people strolled leisurely by.
Since the pandemic, there haven’t been many large, spontaneous gatherings. The urge to share something with a crowd of people hasn’t gone away, but fear of contagion has blocked our path. We like to imagine putting Bloodroot together as a way of gathering, imagine reading each other’s work as a way of being in community with each other. In these pages you’ll encounter reflections on the war in Ukraine in the poetry of Lada Kolomiyets, walk in the woods with Jane McKinley, go hunting with T.J. Riley, peer into a closet with Annabelle Cone, meet a haunting stranger in Rachel Lyon’s striking prose, and more.
The cover image was made from a photograph taken by James E. Dobson of Post Pond in Lyme, New Hampshire. We frequently visit this spot in the summer and early fall for swimming and boating and especially enjoy the light at dusk. Like the momentary darkening experienced during the eclipse, such twilight moments can register and release our shared feelings. We invite you to read this issue as a way of connecting. Here we are, gathered on the page.
RENA J. MOSTEIRIN & JAMES E. DOBSON
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