The less we are able to admit common feelings into our relationship with trees, the more impoverished we become: it must indicate a deforestation of the spirit. Strangely enough, their least understood qualities lie in the sensate natures they share with the rest of life… We have hardly …
In the woods, each seasonal transition is accompanied by faint glimmers of what comes next and ghosts of each fleeting moment. Later sunrise and earlier sunset times now stagger in slow-motion toward an embrace they thankfully never reach. Field crickets chirp in lengthening darkness of …
On the eve of the first measurable December snowfall, a time of thin ice and rattling beech leaves, I joined three colleagues on a rugged bushwhack to a remote corner of a Society-owned forest reservation. It's not often that the conservation business is as tangible as it was that early winter …
It appears we still don’t always see the forest for the trees.
Most people were duped by a flurry of media attention last summer erroneously reporting that New Hampshire surpassed Maine for having the highest percentage of state land area classified as “forest” in the nation. As …
By mid-summer, I noticed a faint yellow tinge to the foliage of aged local sugar maples lining our dirt road. I despaired at the possibility of some decline in their health. With more than ample rainfall, how could the maple foliage not be lush, deep green?
The crew grew quiet as we approached the nest. They whispered and walked slowly, carefully scanning the tree tops overhead and behind them. At the snap of a dry twig underfoot, a goshawk leaped from the rim of its nest and screamed "Kak! Kak! Kak!" as it circled above the pines. I froze …
Anticipation builds on a sultry, early summer afternoon. The air is thick but an approaching cold front promises relief from oppressive heat and humidity.
By late-afternoon, thunderheads billow like the tall sails of galleons …
