In June of 2019, after four years of climbing virtually every day, I had to leave the tree. Someday I will find the words for what this creative project–and this tree–meant...
It is late at night, and there is a stupendous full moon. As I cross to the tree, inky shadows lie tangled on the snow. The immense orb lies behind the woods, and shadows...
The Bangalore region of South India is parched. There is virtually no visible water anywhere and the landscape is mostly stone and dust and the heat of the sun. But there...
For weeks, it felt, the skies were relentlessly gray. We got a little snow, but more rain, and even more freezing rain. The snow cover flattened and adhered to the ground...
It’s a recent Saturday morning and I’ve just spent an hour up on top of the house shoveling snow. The heavy white blanket that took out power and turned the middle of the week...
Sometimes charged experiences surface unexpectedly while climbing, like dolphins from the ocean. This winter I am surprised all over again by the degree to which brushing...
Three times over the past few weeks I look out a window or door and see a squirrel bounding across the driveway with an apple in its mouth. Bright gold in the sunshine,...
I have fallen in love—with a gently curved length of ashwood and a wicked 65 cm long steel blade. I’ve been intending to buy a scythe for several years now and finally...
It was a good year for mountains. The girls and I bookended the summer with two: Mt. Abraham soon after school got out, just before they embarked on their respective summer...
It is late and I step out into the night and head for the tree. I move across the darkness of the lawn, navigating mostly by the slope of the ground, and then freeze about...
Twice this past week, once on Wednesday, after school and before work in the evening, and once late Sunday afternoon, Emme and I, and on Sunday Claire as well, walk a mile...
I get back from chorus late in the evening. It’s the weekend of the Tunbridge Fair and Claire was there instead of rehearsal, and there wasn’t the usual carpool...
It is late Saturday night of Labor Day weekend. I am at the top of the tree after a long drive back from Lenox, MA, where we saw an outdoor production of As You Like It at Shakespeare...
Recently a friend and colleague retired after many years at the library. Usually on occasions like this the person departing is presented with a gift. Instead, she mounted...
It is late at night and the rain is steady, soft. I pull on a raincoat and step out of the house into the darkness. As I cross the driveway a fat toad hops slowly by, mottled...
I didn’t plan to post anything else about Bhutan, but then Emme came home and showed us her pictures. I can’t resist sharing a few more, with her permission. ...
It is a gorgeous Monday morning, and we’ve been serenaded by fiddle and banjo from the kitchen table as we cook breakfast. Yesterday we hosted nearly thirty Village...
Emme has sent a few more photos from Bhutan of a quintessential sacred landscape: Tiger’s Nest Monastery (Paro Taktsang) and its environs, perched on the side of a cliff...
Speaking of sacred landscapes (which admittedly I have not done for some time), Emme has sent me from Bhutan a picture of a tree she especially liked, the Bodhi tree in the courtyard...
Around 3:30 the power goes out. There are thunderstorm alerts and the sky has darkened, but there is no rain yet, at least not here. We are leaving for Woodstock in 45 minutes,...
Certain birdcalls change the world. The hermit thrush, the wood thrush, the veery: they sing and one is transported. A palpable sense of mystery, a profound beauty, emerges...
It is late when I enter the tree. It is new, this business of entering, at least for this year. The empty tree one does not enter. One may clamber up the bare branches...
A week or so ago I go out into the late evening to call Emme in for dinner. As I walk down the driveway an owl slides silently past into a near tree. I stop and watch it on its […]
Large, round numbers have an irresistible allure. Witness our love of anniversaries, or the turning over of a century. It occurred to me recently that I missed a good...
Weeks go by and the weather is monotonous, the landscape bleak, the tree uneventful. It would be easy to stop climbing at times like this. The practice feels empty of inner...
It is a Monday evening and I am bringing four girls back from a yoga class in White River Junction. It has been raining hard for hours and the temperature is below freezing....
For Christmas Emme gave me hand-dyed prayer flags. She bought them white and dyed them blue, and they came out the color of snow at late twilight. The tree has been empty...
Two days before Christmas it rained all day in 20-degree air. Water froze on everything it touched, and then on top of that, hour after hour. Ice built up on every surface....
Climb so slowly you’re barely moving. Try to reach the top in ten seconds. In summer imagine a river of sap flowing up into the air through trunk, branch and twig beneath...
Back when the world was warm and golden, when grasses stood tall in the meadow and apples still hung on the trees, Emme stepped out of the house one morning and came back...