Sunday afternoon, 19 September: I am sitting on the porch at the Twelve Acre Woods under a partly cloudy sky – some sun is still shining through. A breeze ruffles the tree tops, carrying a message that a new season is coming. It’s still hot and humid. The air is…
I was on the tractor recently, mowing the grass. I had let it get pretty high and unkempt – we’d had a lot of rain for a couple of weeks and I didn’t want to tear up the grass with big tractor tire marks. So it finally dried up enough…
“Every man looks at his wood-pile with a kind of affection. I love to have mine before my window, and the more chips the better to remind me of my pleasing work. I had an old axe which nobody claimed, with which by spells in winter days, on the sunny…