LIFE–real life–is small. Intimate. Personal. As close as a cat’s purr, a hug, a cup of tea, the blooming of a flower. It is not, and never will be, defined by the grand ambitions of fools, lunatics, and tyrants. They live their own small and mortal lives, less authentic and decent than our own, and in their ignorance and pretension
IT’S A NATURAL FACT: Did you know that time does not fly if you’re a fly? Or a dragonfly? Or a hummingbird? Time is NOT the same for everyone. Small-bodied creatures with fast metabolisms experience the world in slow motion–compared to us and other larger-bodied creatures. This is sometimes called ‘bullet time’–just as in the action scenes in ‘The Matrix’
LOOK EVERYONE! All you kind-hearted fans of Paddy, the little waif who came in from the cold in March, became a ‘garage cat’ and finally let us touch him weeks later, eventually learning to love sitting in a soft lap in my grandad’s old wicker rocking chair…. Well, Paddy has ‘arrived’ and made the big transition. To the cabin—my office.
THE MYSTERIOUS SIGN: In my wilderness guiding years, spanning decades and thousands of miles of ‘canoe country,’ we would sometimes come across the famous, red-tinged rock paintings of the North. Pictographs. The red color due to the ferous oxide compound used to make them. The paintings are always haunting and mysterious, their creation dating back hundreds, even thousands of years,
AT THE CHURCH O THE PINES, it is a gray, drippy, rainy, foggy, gloomy but otherwise excellent day. Still, the sort of day that indoors is rather appealing. And in the Caretakers’ Cabin indoors is not a bad place to be. Especially this time of year with all of Kathy’s Christmas decorating. One of my favorite things about living in
AND THE WEATHER-MAKER at the Church O’ The Pines decreed that on this day we should have snow. Not a lot, just a dusting, but enough that it looks like December and not November. And with the addition yesterday of the cabin Christmas tree, with grandchildren on hand to help, the season is in full swing. The winds howled in
IF ONE OWNS or inhabits a piney woods, it is incumbent upon you to go for walks in the woods. It is a sin, in fact, if you do not. At least according to the Church O’ The Pines rulebook. And when you go for a walk it is only good form to take a walking stick. An old one.
THE GREAT MUCKY MUCK was down on his luck Besides just being a jerk and a schmuck Besides wearing a poor deceased cat on his head Besides being stupid and mostly brain-dead No, these were all problems of fairly long standing, Part of his schtick and part of his branding, Part of what made him so doggoned adorable To all
AND SO, on Fawn Island, it is Silly Saturday, and time to smile at the happy fact of humor in this world. Here you go, from my 9-year-old grandson and me. And you’re welcome! Q: What do you call an elephant that just doesn’t matter? A: An irrelephant. Q: Why can’t you hear a Pterodactyl go to the bathroom? A:
APPROXIMATELY 2021 YEARS AGO an infant was born (skeptics who doubt that he ever really existed advance a weak case, with more faith in skepticism itself than in evidence) likely in a cave-like space under a simple stone dwelling, to an unwed, teen-aged mother, delivered into poverty in a troubled corner of the world. About 33 years later he died,