ON FAWN ISLAND, we now have a new cabin with running water, shower, and flush toilet. Which is great, and makes Kathy Ann happy. Which makes me happy. But I am still fond of the old outhouse, the Church of Peace, the path through the cedars to the shady bower, a site of solitude and meditation whose charms we have
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:
IT IS WONDERFUL to gaze at a sunset, at the palette of colors in the sky. But when we cast our eye away from the setting sun, we sometimes find the world bathed in a glorious golden light. My old friend Sigurd Olson used to call this the Ross Light, named for a Life magazine photographer who first pointed it
THIS HUNCHED OLD JACK PINE has greeted every dawn here on Fawn Island for—well, for a long time. Not much left of it now, as a summer storm took its top a couple of years ago. Only a few gnarled boughs still retain their greenery. But the little tree holds firmly to its place on the bedrock as it has