IN MY WRITING OFFICE there are many items of interest. At least to me. Hundreds of books, photos and art, mementoes from countless wilderness trips. But especially… rocks. Rocks have been important to me since earliest childhood. And I suspect I am far from alone in this regard. The following chapter from my book, ‘Deep Woods, Wild Waters,’ (University of
IN MY WORK and travels, I meet a great many people who ask me, essentially, how I can be an optimist in this world. There was a time when I wasn’t. I’m still not, always. Nobody can be honest and be an optimist all the time. On my good days I am. Most days I am. Outdoors I usually am.
IT WAS 30 YEARS AGO that a first-time author (me) with a small, regional publisher that had never published a children’s book, and an artist who had never illustrated a book, began to make a mark. OLD TURTLE went on to sell over 1.5 million copies, to be translated and published into other languages, and to win many awards—including the
ON A RECENT CHRISTMAS POST, there was a small case of mistaken identity. A few dispeptic souls mistook me for someone else—a sort of religious fundamentalist, perhaps, while others thought me more of a stone-hearted reductionist. Of course both were wrong. But in order to avoid further confusion, I will do this. I will tell you, my friends, exactly what