Woods Wanderer

I’m going gangbusters on the bookselling business these days, but earlier this week I put it aside long enough to spend a little time in the Broadleaf Wilderness. My dog Matika accompanied me, of course.

I hiked to a favorite spot along the headwaters of the New Haven River and set up camp. After casting my fly onto the roily waters of that stream, and a simple dinner of ramen noodles and summer sausage, I settled into a comfy spot in camp. There I pondered matters while drinking tea and feeding sticks into a small campfire.

Every once in a while, I jotted down something in my field journal. But mostly I just took in the sights, smells and sounds of the forest, and appreciated the great good fortune of being alive and well in such a beautiful green world.

It’s easy to get caught up in the frenzy of modern living. Happens to me all the time. But every once in a while, I head for the hills to reflect. Such outings rarely disappoint, and on occasion I come away from them with a little insight into the human condition. If nothing else, it clears my head.

I threw a few more sticks on the fire and talked to the mountain stream tumbling incessantly towards the lowlands. In the face of such fluid eternity, nothing seems as important as simply being in the moment. I pondered that for a while.

Matika lounged nearby, chewing on a stick. The sun slipped into the trees and twilight soon followed. A thrush called out. I threw a few smaller sticks on the fire until all that remained was a pile of glowing orange embers. Then I went to bed, feeling more at home in the wild than anywhere else. Yes indeed, safe and secure in wildness.

Tags: Breadloaf Wilderness, campfire, mountain stream, reflection, wildness

Two weeks ago, I did something I have been dreaming about doing for years. I stopped working for other people and got back into the bookselling business.

It began innocently enough. In April I posted several of my older books to Amazon.com, thereby making them available to a lot more readers. Go to Amazon, punch in my name, and most of my published work will come up now.

That in itself felt like a major accomplishment – something I’ve been meaning to do for a long time. Then I took things a step further. I posted a bunch of other books to Amazon Marketplace, just to see if I could sell them that way. When orders started coming in, I was beside myself. I started buying and posting more and more books. Then two weeks ago, everything changed. That’s when I lost my job at the UPS Store. That’s when Judy suggested I take the next four months to focus on building the online bookselling business instead of looking for another job. I said we should sleep on it. When I got up the next morning, Judy gave me the high sign. Then I set to work like a man possessed.

For quite some time now, Judy and I have been toying with the idea of having a retail operation in our latter years. But the more we looked into it, the less a bricks-and-mortar store appealed to us. Online seems a better way to go.

I love books. I like reading, writing and publishing them. And yes, even selling them. Some of you will remember when I had a store full of used books. That was back in the 80s. Well, it looks like things have come full circle.

Naturally I favor outdoor/nature books, but I’m trading in a little bit of everything these days. Eventually, Judy and I will rebuild the Wood Thrush Books website so that we can sell new, used and remaindered books by other publishers there along with the titles that I publish. All nature-related stuff, of course. Stay tuned for that. In the meantime, I’m hustling to make this business fly. Wish me luck.

Tags: bookselling, nature writing, online bookselling, wood thrush books

I awaken undaunted to the wet, overcast day. After being trapped indoors by two days of steady rain, I’m going out no matter what. A couple hours of work early in the morning then I grab my rucksack and go. My dog Matika is all for it, of course.

An hour later I am tramping a rare section of the Long Trail that passes through a farmer’s field. The wet grass completely soaks my pants. No matter. I press forward. Then the trail markers follow an old railway bed before reaching a logging road that goes deeper into the mountains. Better than staying home and staring at a computer screen, that’s for certain.

I am dressed more for early May than early June. That’s why I don’t mind the cool dampness of the forest. I break a sweat, in fact, while pressing uphill. That’s fine. Sometimes sweating is a good way to relax.

My thoughts are a jumble of memories of previous hikes mixed with the sights, sounds and smells of the lush forest all around me. It keeps me from thinking about all the work I do on a regular basis. I dig my hiking stick into the ground and keep going.

A mountain brook winds into the trail. After crossing the stream a couple times, I sit down next to it to groove on rushing water for a while. No bloodsucking insects, surprisingly enough. Foamflower blooms across the brook. It’s easy to miss. A waterthrush sings in the distance. A thin drizzle commences.

During the gradual descent back down to the trailhead, I veer off the LT, following a new snowmobile trail for a while. It winds through the kind of ultra-green forest that I dreamt about during the frigid days of February. Eventually I tag the LT again. Then back across the wet field, thus completing my hike to nowhere. A good hike, actually. Just what the doctor ordered.

Tags: forest, Green Mountains, hiking, Long Trail