Despite who we have been or may yet become, every one of us becomes the forest, struggling to embrace a perfect balance of being.
Photo essay: a return to the Bighorn mountains in Wyoming for an autumn pilgrimage to the Medicine Wheel and a turning of seasons.
The moon rises over the forested horizon as we witness its appearance from the lake shore. How many moonrises have we seen across these waters?
The Hoh Rain Forest waits as a patient guide, a moss-embroidered forest of wisdom, lined with ferns and storied over with trees older than memory.
Trees can grow to gargantuan proportions, given the right conditions and enough time. I am grateful for having touched some of the oldest and largest living things on earth.
This week a rotten tree fell hard in the forest. Many thousands were there to witness its undoing, but no one heard the crash. Not even the tree realized it had fallen.
Review of Permanent Vacation: Twenty Writers on Work and Life in Our National Parks, edited by Kim Wyatt (Bona Fide Books, 2011), an assortment of short recollections by writers who lived and worked in national parks. Sometimes adventurous, even frightening, often poetic, this collection offers intimate views rarely experienced by the millions who enjoy American national parks each year. ♨