Tails of the Wood
I write to remember and, at times, to prove to myself why I am so impulsive, why I need to create, and why I do what I do. This journal hopefully reflects insight into what is important in my life. Mostly short stories or poems, they range from wildlife observation to memoirs and are meant to connect often directly to a single carving or eventually to a common theme. Some of the works shown here are for sale.
The Dancing Rabbit
Did you ever have a good luck charm, or at least something that, once you got it, things went well? I think I have one now. It kind of snuck into my life. …
Comfort Box
One-half cup of flour, one-quarter cup of shortening and an eighth-cup of milk makes crust. Apples, cinnamon and sugar go inside and I bake it. …
Old Favorite
A friend passed away and, like often happens, you realize how much they meant to you only after they’re gone. This friend was like a guy friend but he wasn't human. …
Leland Kinsey
Today I chose to write about Leland Kinsey. I never knew of him when he was alive. He was my age and grew up in the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont. …
“Cat-ing”
I had been watching his tracks for weeks. And another’s, smaller more delicate, his beloved. From our window, after sunset he walked across in front of us—a silhouette against the darkening snow…
The Subnivean Zone
Last year at this time I was fascinated with tracks in the snow. With a walk through the field, I could reconstruct an entire evening of animal life…
Close Encounter
A buck in velvet crossed in front of us as we drove the farm road to the lake. He slowly bounded away through the tall, fully-flowered goldenrod until he suddenly stopped and turned. …
Prickly Ash
With long sharp thorns and few leaves to hide them, Prickly Ash might be the worst shrub in my fields. Try walking through it…
A Winter’s Night
Anticipating a storm, I spent the afternoon finding old snow shovels and gathering sand. Others I know frantically shop for food and quickly ready plows on their pickups…
A Body of Heavenly Origin
Out of the rubble of broken concrete staves a form has taken place—symbolic, abstract and meaningful. I often pass these iconic landmarks dotting the rural landscape…
A Screech Owl’s Evening
There was a thump on the side of the car door. We went back. A cute little bird stood in the road with one wing laid down to his side…