OCD Crow gets terribly attached to landscapes.Terrible because she finds it so hard to leave them, even for short periods of time, once she becomes intimately connected to place, whether it’s a forest at the end of the street, a berm across from the kitchen window or now, a river in constant view from her living room. Even to go on tour, she thinks, “how much is being missed of the light & shadows, the shifts of season that will never again be seen in quite this way?” Of course, one can’t remain glued to the topography incessantly but OCD Crow loves to steep in a particular focus, a locus that becomes hers in a sense through art and time. Not to own, knowing place, as with all else, is elusive, transient, ephemeral, mortal. But to pay homage, create tribute. Life, through connection to one’s environment, deepens, seeps into everything. And then pains the heart on its passing, or on one’s moving beyond it to another topography of dream.