THERE IS A certain sense of peace that comes over one when tracking wild creatures through the woods or on the frozen river. A feeling of knowing, understanding, even bonding-with and feeling connected-to. The white tailed deer, the red fox, the gray squirrel and the little red, the cottontail. Even Petey the ‘possum who lives under the deck. All leave
THINGS ARISE: One of my favorite quotes is, ‘Spring comes, and the grass grows by itself.’ Sometimes attributed to Lao Tsu and sometimes Basho Matsuo. But grass is not the only thing that arises, that ‘grows by itself.’ Here in our piney woods things are beginning to happen underfoot, beneath last year’s leaves and needles. The very first Bloodroots, a
I DECIDED to go out for a country walk, for as John Muir said, “Going out is really going in.” It would be the sort of walk much favored by me, with no identifiable goal or ambition. Just to see things and think about them, or not think about them as the case may be. Immediately after stepping out the
TODAY I came to the banks of a little stream, a place I like to go for repose and reflection. And to hear the song of flowing water. As I arrived, I came upon a woman bundled up in a big parka, and with her a small boy in an equally fluffy parka. On his back was a good sized
ONE OF THE GREAT pleasures of being a countryman, or a woodsman-or-woman, is simply going for a walk. And looking for stuff. In the winter this can prominently include tracks. I especially like finding otter ‘slides,’ places where these playful and delightful creatures gallop along, flop onto their bellies, and just glide—sometimes for 20 or 30 feet, on the level
TODAY from the Church O’ The Pines, a small outing to the Little Stream. The woods seem dead, but are only resting. The stream is frozen, but only on the surface. Beneath the cold, still ice, everything is still moving, singing, flowing, living. Everything important happens below the surface. One day the ice, too, will move. It will be tossed
THERE IS A PATH I know that leads to the most marvelous series of trees. Northern White Cedar, Arborvitae. Their roots stretch and reach over bedrock—anchoring, holding fast to the earth. To life. I know other paths, many of them, that lead to shadowed haunts and streams of sunlight. A great many people are hurting right now, burdened by doubts
AN AUTUMN EVENING walk round the Church O’ The Pines woods. A centering walk. A hopeful walk. A walk of deep breaths and the fragrance of fallen leaves, the last golden carpet from the last maple. It held on so long and steadfastly. A blue canoe in a red sunset, the desire to take it out for one more spin.
IMPORTANT NEWS: Beautiful Osprey Wilds Environmental Learning Center, one of my favorite places on Earth (and where my son Bryan Wood happens to be Executive Director) is asking for support. They need help in their vital work of connecting kids to nature. And grown-ups, too. They are in the midst of their annual Benefit Week, raising funds for scholarships, classes,
YESTERDAY I TOOK KATHY for a walk in the St. John’s University woods, full of big oaks and maples and one of our favorite fall destinations. It was, as always, a tonic. The glorious colors and the stately trees, the crunch of leaves and fragrance of the forest, simply the chance to be outdoors beside a blue lake under a