“At night make me one with the darkness,” the poet Wendell Berry wrote. “In the morning make me one with the light.” I snowshoed west across the open field this morning. The sky was overcast. Snow fell from above or was blown from the northwest; I couldn’t tell which as I traveled slowly, my head down […]Read more "Without Constraint"
To look up — To explore — To pause — To see those around me — To embrace silence — To consider that which has been — That which is — And that which is to come — These are my New Year’s resolutions.Read more "2018 New Year’s Resolution"
Walt Whitman wrote– There was a child went forth every day, And the first object he looked upon and received with wonder or pity or love or dread, that object he became, And that object became part of him for the day or a certain part of the […]Read more "A Child Went Forth"
I took a walk in early November, and what did I see? In the gray light of coming winter, I saw a chickadee perched in a tree. I took a stroll that Saturday afternoon, and who did I meet? Parading down a gravel road, ruffed grouse communed in twos and threes. The snow […]Read more "I Took a Walk"
“May I have your attention, please! The 397th Annual Thanksgiving Turkey Convention is now in session!” Visiting turkeys from across the United States took their seats as the bird at the microphone continued – “And now without further ado, your speaker for the evening, a turkey highly regarded for his unflagging leadership in the crusade against […]Read more "397th Thanksgiving Turkey Convention"
The wind blew Thursday, and the snow fell. The world was a swirl of white. Snow devils danced across plowed fields, roadside ditches filled with drifts, cars crept down county highways. Winter, if only for forty-eight hours, had re-asserted itself at October’s end. But today is Saturday, partly sunny, and calm of wind […]Read more "The Art of Going"
In the 1960s, when my brother Doug and I were young, we often ran away from home. Angered by some perceived injustice, we’d tell our mother we weren’t going to take it anymore. We were running away. “We’re leaving!” we’d announce. She’d nod her head as if to say she understood and then pull bread from […]Read more "A Short Story of Leaving Home"