WHEN WE FIRST CAME TO PINE POINT and the old cabin, the forest was choked with buckthorn. Had to literally fight and chop my way through it. Bought a machete! Along with chain saws, brush cutters, weed wrenches, etc. Even the main lot under the century white pines was bad, and the red pine lots nearly impenetrable. Better now. These
LITTLE STREAM, I can still hear you calling, though my footsteps may take me far away; through the seasons you’re rising and falling; young and old each new day, you move along but you stay, and I thank you for passing my way.
A WALK IN THE WOODS is good for many things, especially this time of year. Eyes and ears and nose and heart, legs and lungs, muscles and sinews. But mostly, it’s good for the soul. And to be able to walk your own woods around your own cabin, a woods you tend and care for, among pines and maples and
TWO CELEBRATIONS: Of colors. Of friends. Yesterday Kathy and I decided to find some close-to-home autumn colors. So off to the St. John’s woods we traipsed. Through the old stone arch and down the trail. And were richly rewarded. Every few steps produced an ‘Ooh’ or an ‘Ah’ or a ‘Look at that!’ A celebration of the sights and sounds
SCENES FROM A WALK in the woods with Road Scholars on our Bluff Country expedition. Here at one of my favorite woodland trails along Trout Run Creek in Whitewater State Park. Jacob’s Ladder, Wild Geraniums, Trillium Grandiflorum, Buttercups, White, Yellow and Purple Violets, Wood Anemone, and Wildwood Phlox all brightened the trail sides. Meanwhile we added to our two-day count
AT THE CHURCH O THE PINES, there is an insistent whispering and shushing in the pine tops, under a gathering overcast. The wind is restless, and the woods seem to be in a waiting, anticipatory mood. The blue jays are restless, too, and in full cry at the slightest disturbance. Other birds and congregation members are more quiet, gathering food
A TILT CALLED the Super Bowl will be played today, But I fear I might miss the fine, fearsome fray. A trail in the woods is calling to me, Past three pines and a birch and a balsam fir tree And the chirp of an eagle in the setting sun’s rays; All call my attention, as they do on most
THESE BUCOLIC SCENES guide a weary traveler down the narrow lanes to the old cabin-in-the-woods. Also known as the Caretakers’ Cabin for the Chuch O The Pines. It is the scene of some Consternation and Commotion over the last few days, as the furnace went out on Friday night—outside temp about minus 5. But with space heaters, a kitchen oven
HERE AT THE CHURCH O THE PINES, the congregation arrives, surrounded by beauties. And, of course, contributing to them. It is a good way to live. And, for our humble members, it does not seem to require extra effort—to live a good and purposeful life—just the normal exertion of being who they are. Winter is often difficult and calls for