The weather cleared last night, and the air has turned to crystal. The stars early this morning were astonishing. And I have my stove going now. It amazes me how every new season makes me feel that this is the season – that I wasn’t really at the cabin, that I didn’t really know pleasure, [...]
Tag Archives: autumn
Fall is mostly done in the high mountains. The woods are mostly bare and your eye pierces right through them to the mountains beyond. And it has gotten very quiet. Last night, in one of my contentedly melancholy moods, I found myself singing this contentedly melancholy song, and I stepped out onto the porch to [...]
Hiked in the pouring rain Monday, and was amply rewarded in the spells when the rain paused.
The Staten Island book – which can be ordered here (it has returned from the printers, and is being bound) – originally consisted of twenty-one essays, about 45,000 words; the publishers selected ten of these essays to make a more compact 20,000 word “chapbook,” a better size book for the press and, of course, far [...]
I climbed to my usual perch just south of Panther Mountain on October 8th, full of thoughts. This is part of what I saw.
The photo is overexposed as usual, or the image would make you weep for the gift of eyes. There are layers upon layers of mountains going into the distance, all invisible in the Canon haze. It’s been beautiful up here, though it is autumn: cold, windy, damp, raw, the smell of rot in the air [...]