ONE NEVER KNOWS where one may find a garden. Some are planted, some are not. On an old wood-splitting log, for instance, home to lichens and mosses and young spruce trees. Or on an old tool shed roof. And of course every garden needs someone to tend it. Like a lively green-eyed Forest Kitten, perhaps. Named Koda.
BECAUSE WE ARE RESPONSIBLE, caring people, we cannot turn away when something is wrong. When someone is hurting or being hurt. We cannot hide when dishonesty seems to triumph over truth, and cruelty over kindness. But because we are human beings, we also tend to focus almost exclusively on the thing that is wrong, and not on the thousand things
NEPHEW MICHAEL ARRIVED at Rainy Lake yesterday with his lovely partner Lisa. Within an hour they helped me land this monster Northern Pike, which Michael skillfully netted after a long battle. Broke my pole, tore a hole in the net, and wore me out. Quickly untangled and successfully released. About an 18 pounder! Perhaps the largest our family has caught
AT THE CHURCH O’ THE ISLAND, through a gauzy porch screen, one ponders the strange beauty of a (mostly) dead jackpine. It still looks over the lake as it has for decades, an icon of the North. Like all such trees, it speaks of hardiness and fortitude, of perseverance, of belonging to and growing from the place you are planted.
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
EVERY SUMMER these two friends begin their game anew. Surrounded by Kathy’s ferns, they ponder the mysteries of the perfect move, untroubled by the doubts, troubles, and anxieties of the Big World. Their world is large enough. The ferns have never been removed to make room for more ‘yard’, more grass, more flowers. Their graceful beauty, so near the cabin,
OUR VERY FIRST FOREST THERAPY RETREAT was an absolutely grand experience. Walking woodland trails lined with trillium and jack-in-the-pulpit. Soaking up the celestial music of the morning birdsong chorus. Practicing deep relaxation, stillness, and mindfulness; exploring the woods through sight, sound, smell, and touch. And exploring our own deeper sense of compassion and gratitude, for one another, for a beautiful