As we come to the close of 2020, “unprecedented” has become a cliche. Nevertheless, as we put together woodland, each day brings something new—almost like the twists and turns of an unexplored forest path.
With that in mind, it’s no surprise that woodland reflects that uncertainty. You’ll travel through the woods of the world with each page, and even enter other literary worlds—beyond a certain wardrobe door—through the pieces included in our eighth issue. We invited submitters with this: “Like the sun breaking through the trees, we want to highlight woodlands’ dichotomies. Take us into the woods and through the forest, to the witch’s cottage and to rest in airy meadows. Show us what’s hiding in the shadows and let us stop to smell the wildflowers. Bring the woodland creatures to life.” Like always, they brought just that.
Without further ado, welcome to woodland. Come into the woods with us and sit awhile with Maggi McGettigan’s “Nurse Logs, and Other Lessons from Nature” and “The Mushroom Maidens” by Avra Margariti. Look through the trees and into the skies in “Requiem” by Clay F. Johnson and Cheryl Skory Suma’s “My Shadow’s Shadow.” Step into the shadows and breath in the fresh forest air.
As always, thank you to my wonderful team here at the N&S “nest” for bringing this issue to life, and to everyone who makes this lit mag and our press possible.
And, of course, thank you to you, dear reader.
Editor-in-Chief, Nightingale & Sparrow