Summers last Trickle

I needed something. A moment, brief as it may be, but just some time away. The media, the divided country, phone calls, yard work/bathroom remodel/travel/guide trips/Covid-19/plans for fall-  it had me dizzy, spiraling. I took my opportunity and hit the river, solo...

Last Days of the Season

The shadows fall sharply between the poplar and pine this time of year. Tamaracks have just begun to lose their light green color, beginning to transfer to a light golden hue. There is a definite scent in the air, a smell of rot, decomposition, not altogether...

Reflections

By no coincidence it is 4:30 in the morning and the cabin is silent, except for the hushing buzz of the HVAC system lulling nearly everyone into a pseudo dream state. I can hear Glen Frey “You belong to the Night” in my earphones and it strikes me ironic as we are...