FOR ALL YOU friends and admirers of little Paddy the cat, our St. Patrick’s Day waif, what a change. And what adaptions he has made! You will recall that Paddy was terrified of the world, and wouldn’t let us approach, let alone touch him. Now, here is Paddy on Fawn Island, having done beautifully with the 250 mile car-ride. And
AFTER A WEEK unplugged and virtually off the grid, exploring the North Shore, the edge of the Boundary Waters, and Voyageurs National Park, I return with my Road Scholars. To what we sometimes call the ‘real world.’ But there is something very real about trees and stones and rivers, islands and waterfalls and showy pink ladyslippers. About an ancient snapping
A RAINY, but green and lovely day, in the Pine Point woods. The kitchen window left open for the comings and goings of Koda-the-Forest-Kitten. The hush of a soft, slow rain falling. The high ‘r-e-e-e-p’ of a great crested flycatcher from a distant tree-top. The brilliant notes of a Baltimore oriole, the scarlet notes of Sparky-the-Cardinal. The far-off calling of
AT THIS PAST WEEK’S FOREST THERAPY RETREAT, each participant received an embossed journal, and a special earth-toned-ink pen, the better to keep track of earth-toned thoughts and earth-toned feelings. Of which there were many. Here is one from the end of our Forest Therapy Retreat: ‘I hope the vision of so much green space does not leave me for a
YES: As the title of this newsletter, ‘Notes From The Campfire,’ would indicate, a significant part of my life is a deep connection to the natural world. We live in a cabin-in-the-woods, and as I write these words I hear an ovenbird, a catbird, a Baltimore oriole, a pine warbler, a common yellowthroat, and our resident bald eagle, all chirping,
I ONCE KNEW A BOY who lay on his back in green summer grass and smelled the freshness of it, as he wondered at the pictures the clouds made above, hinting at a mysterious, wide open future. I knew a boy who sat by an Iowa creek and dreamed of wilderness, of loving and exploring it. I knew a boy
THE HUMAN PSYCHE was never designed to confront a global crisis before the first cup of coffee in the morning. To parry threats to family, home and nation over lunch, and to try to fall asleep after scrolling through an endless parade of corruption, cruelty, chaos, and stupidity. We still need to walk a forest path. To sit by a
THINGS ARISE: One of my favorite quotes is, ‘Spring comes, and the grass grows by itself.’ Sometimes attributed to Lao Tsu and sometimes Basho Matsuo. But grass is not the only thing that arises, that ‘grows by itself.’ Here in our piney woods things are beginning to happen underfoot, beneath last year’s leaves and needles. The very first Bloodroots, a
RAPIDS AHEAD: In my life I’ve led many a journey through the Canoe Country wilderness, some expeditions of 500 miles or more through the bush, over the rugged Canadian Shield. Each trip is full of joys and beauties, but each is laced with challenges and fears as well. There are languorous days when all seems peaceful, horizons are clear, waters
HERE AT THE CABIN-IN-THE-WOODS, I am waiting. And watching. I’m watching the old rock wall I built long ago. I’m watching the sides of the gravel lane, and along the paths I like to wander. And sometime soon I will see what I’m looking for. The first little hints of white. The first tightly clasped blossom around a green stem,