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Trail’s End

I know I’m in trouble when N. starts saving for a tent and sleeping bags. Then she brings home a book with the ominous title, North Carolina Hiking Trails. Actually, I’m fond of hiking, especially if I can relax at the end of the day with a bed and a bath. But to my wife, this is like washing down a gourmet dinner with a Dr. Pepper. She wants an experience of nature unmediated by civilized comfort. She wants to show me and J., her thirteen-year-old son, how to rough it.

Living Alone

Shadows

Reflections Of A Ninety-Three-Year-Old Revolutionary

An Interview With Hazel Wolf

If I’d known as a child what I know now, I’d have become an environmentalist on the spot. I guess you could say that my childhood dreams led me first to help people in their individual environments — housing and health care, and things like that. But I ended up working to save our natural home.

Sunbeams

I believe in God, only I spell it Nature.

Frank Lloyd Wright

Euclid’s Hell

It’s amazing to me how little respect most people seem to have for reality. The mind is capable of tricking us into accepting its version of what takes place around us. We repeatedly mistake our perceptions for the stuff of existence, even when we know better.

North At Fifty-Three

Those Trees

Trees

New neighbors, the sack of Rome, a treehouse in the Cascade Mountains

Bubble-Boggled