LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS: It is axiomatic but often forgotten that light is only visible in the darkness. We see no stars in broad daylight. On the other hand, the most beautiful and subtle of lights—the stars, a candle or a lamp—find their greatest beauty, their glow, their meaning—when encompassed by the dark. I have thought of such things this
FRIENDS: Each year at about this time, for several years now, I have shared this little Christmas essay. Last year I included it in my memoir, ‘A Wild Path,’ as well. The essay expresses some of my thoughts, wonderings, and some river-woods wanderings… that seem appropriate to the season. I hope you enjoy it. Feel free to share. Or to
AT THE CHURCH O’ THE PINES, today–the Winter Solstice–is the shortest day of the year. This is true in all the neighboring fields and woods and rivers as well. And all over the Northern Hemisphere. So one could say the phenomenon is rather widespread. But do you know what that means? That means that tomorrow isn’t. The shortest day. Not
THE TEMPERATURE AT The Church O’ The Pines this morning is 147 degrees below zero. Which is cold, but of course we’ve seen colder. The birds and squirrels and deer are fed, the river is booming, the trees are cracking, and a few snow bombs still falling. It is winter, and a different world in the woods from summer. We
THE LONG, WINDING lane to the old Cabin-in-the-Woods is a bit… frosty. One of the great advantages of living in the forest is that you are surrounded by life. And death. And inspiration. And hardship. And the glory of light and things growing toward the light. And darkness and the visible stars and phases of the moon. Along with all
IN CASE YOU WERE WONDERING… Today I was cleaning up my office. Which involves, eventually, dusting. Which I do regularly—at least once a year. And in this dusting portion of the chore, I came upon this large and heavy object, which I picked up and moved and, well, dusted. I don’t pick it up and move it very often, because
SOMETIMES WE FEEL that if just one or two little things would get fixed, or be better at least, or simply go away, (insert name or problem here) then we could be… happy. And it’s certainly true that outside circumstances affect us. But they seldom truly determine–or control–our happiness. A hot cup of coffee on a cold day. A forest
THE RESULTS OF last night’s snow and ice storm at the Church O’ The Pines. Some huge limbs fell on the roof and the deck, shaking the whole cabin, and causing the inhabitants a fair amount of anxiety. No heat or power for nine hours. Cold kitties. Now, as the northwest wind blows and the temps drop there are still
AS THANKSGIVING APPROACHES, many of us are—as always—especially thankful for wild places and wild things. For the peace and perspective to be found there. For clean granite shorelines and clear waters. For the call of the loon. For dark skies where the constellations can still be seen. For the howl of the wolf and the track of the moose. For
WE ARE FORTUNATE to have in our woods a therapist—a mental health professional—named Dr. Woodrow F. Stump. (The F. stands for Forest, of course). He is a slightly older gentleman, a century and more, to be sure. I’ve written of him fairly often in the past, but it’s been a while, what with Life getting in the way and whatnot.