TODAY THE LUXURIANT KIWI VINE on the north cabin wall got a major trimming. You can tell, can’t you? I didn’t think so. This is where Sparky the Cardinal and a family of chickadees make their winter homes. So—an important spot. Reason for the pruning? Today the new windows Kathy reserved months ago get installed in several parts of the
TODAY IS A DAY OF PEACE and tranquility in the woods. Yesterday was less so, as Kathy was rushed to the ER at 5:30am with a racing heart—A-fib, we discovered. As the day went on, her heart rate crashed from 190 beats per minute to 29, her blood pressure with it, and she briefly lost consciousness. In moments, 14 people
IN RECENT POSTS I have focused on the magnificent skies over Rainy Lake, which—mistranslated by French explorers from a Cree word referring to the misty falls, became Lac la Pluie, which translated into English became Rainy Lake. But the lake is no more rainy than many others, and much of this summer less so. Perhaps a better meteorological designation would
WHEN WE CAME TO FAWN ISLAND nearly 30 years ago, it and its old cabin were in a state of neglect and disrepair. The previous longtime owners—who we know had loved the place dearly—had grown old and unable to return much at all for 15 years or so. There was much to do, and the more we did the more
SOMEWHERE OVER THE RAINBOW, bluebirds sing, and dreams come true. At the foot of the rainbow lies what—a pot of gold, a fortune, great wisdom? Some say a rainbow is a bridge between the spirit world and ours. Or perhaps the rainbow, in first incarnation, sealed a covenant between humankind and the deity. One thing is for certain. To gaze
AT THE CHURCH O THE ISLAND, work goes on—even on the sabbath—in cleaning up and clearing up from storm damage. With breaks , mind you. The breaks, of course, are more important than the work, especially on the sabbath. For there is always more work to do, and it never leaves a completely satisfactory or permanent result. But the breaks—well,
ON FAWN ISLAND, as with many rocky outcrops in the North Country, the bedrock is creased with veins called ‘igneous intrusions.’ This particular white streak is composed of milky quartz. I once wrote of these intrusions in a book called ‘Paddle Whispers’:
A CABIN IN THE WOODS. One of the iconic settings of the environmental movement and American nature writing of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Sigurd Olson’s Listening Point cabin stands beside John Burroughs’ Slabsides, Henry David Thoreau’s Walden Pond cottage, and Aldo Leopold’s Sand County shack, as symbols of an ethic and a way of life. It stands in harmony
FROM THE NORTH SHORE at Tettegouche State Park, on a beautiful day, we unfortunately see the smoke of the Greenwood fire billowing into the sky. It towers like a great thunderhead, but it is no thunderhead. Meanwhile Greenwood has jumped the highway and is immediately threatening homes and structures, other fires burn, the Boundary Waters is closed, and Isle Royale
A GORGEOUS DAY on Shovel Point, Lake Superior. We felt so lucky to be hiking, absorbing the beauty of blue waters, jagged cliffs, lichens and mosses and little, wind-shaped bonsai spruces. And yet to know that just a few dozen miles away, firefighters are struggling desperately to protect people’s homes and cabins, their dreams, and keep more of the forest