EACH YEAR we gather in the Autumn woods, awash with colors and the scents of fallen leaves, to explore the craft of writing. Of self-expression. We call it ‘WRITERS IN THE WOODS.’ Some have been returning for years, and some are new arrivals. It doesn’t matter–we quickly become a family, supporting each other, sharing and learning together. The art of
GOOD NEIGHBORS: If one is a cat, even an extraordinary cat like Koda-the-Forest-Kitten, one does not venture outdoors much when it is below zero day after day. Instead, one takes a nap. Then, after resting up a bit, one takes another nap. Then, after a bite to eat, perhaps, and bathing and resting a little more, it is no doubt
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.
OF ALL THE TREES in our Church O’ The Pines forest, this White Pine is the champion. Seemingly touching the sky, with a nearly arrow-straight trunk, it is nine-and-a-half feet in circumference at chest height. Estimated age, 181 years. Experts say the percentage of White Pines over 180 years of age is very small, likely less than 1% of the
WHEN A BIRCH TRUNK falls in the forest—as this one in our Pine Point woods did—the impervious bark lasts and lasts. It sometimes remains as a perfect cylinder on the ground, even after all the wood has rotted out. Nearly one thousand years ago, the old Norwegians discovered this, and found that during winter they could use those birch bark
BE HERE NOW. It is the essence of Zen. The essence of simple wisdom. The essence of life. Be: Not Do. Here: Not somewhere else. Now: Not some other time we long for, fear, dread, or regret. Just… Be. Here. Now. No matter your problems, no matter what turmoil is around you or within you. Just… Be. Here. Now. It
IT IS A BEAUTIFUL TIME along the roadsides of Minnesota. Summer is gradually transitioning into autumn, and the season of gold into purple. Here Giant Goldenrod frames the deep purple of Joe Pye Weed. Bumblebees love Goldenrod, while Joe Pye Weed, named for a Native American sachem named Joseph Shauquethqueat (Joe Pye) is a favorite of butterflies. Gorgeous.
CASTLE DANGER is a very small community on the North Shore of Lake Superior. The name comes from the tall, rugged cliffs found there, said to be the site of long-ago shipwrecks. Castle Danger Beer is brewed in the scenic, nearby community of Two Harbors, and it has the coolest name for a beer that I’ve ever heard of. Or
RAINY LAKE SKIES… ‘Like the bright hair uplifted from the head Of some fierce Maenad, even from the dim verge Of the horizon to the zenith’s height, The locks of the approaching storm…’ Percy Bysshe Shelley