Natural Resources

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

Have you ever heard silence for a few hours?

The midwinter forest is an excellent place to start

The “Dark Skies” movement was created in opposition to pervasive, creeping nighttime light pollution that obscures constellations in urban areas. But what about noise …

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 …

I collect porcupine stories. It seems everyone who has lived in rural NH has got at least a few. The porcupine tale genre is predictable: disappearing garden or orchard produce, damage to structural lumber, repeated bouts of quills in noses of domestic dogs, and lastly, firearms. Often the tales …

When autumn approaches, creatures great and small prepare for the winter ahead

After late autumn rains strip away the last bright maple leaves, and nights turn cold enough to drive hard frost deeper into the soil, New Englanders respond with instincts that mirror the activities …

I can no more easily imagine a summer evening without bats overhead than the night sky devoid of stars…

On our small New Hampshire farm, we’ve always watched bats feeding over pastures and the adjacent Lane River wetlands. Now the specter of a rapid regional collapse of bat …

 

By May, twilight arrives late. From the high and lonesome expanse of Interstate-89, evening alpenglow illuminates a flank of Mount Kearsarge, changing every second from yellow to gold and now pink, like an ember fallen from a fire. Purple shadows climb the lower slopes as the sun …

We lost two newborn lambs that night. The earliest lambs born on our farm that spring were suddenly dead—the first time we’d ever lost sheep. The veterinarian said we’d just been lucky so far. Three lambing seasons without a bad experience? We were overdue for heartache.

While the local …

There’s a thunderstorm brewing – I can feel it.

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 …