Woods Wanderer

I’m pleased to announce the release of the latest Wood Thrush Books anthology of nature writing, Savoring the Elements. I gathered work for this book during the first half of this year, put it together this summer, and now have copies in stock.

There’s new work in here from Stuart Bartow, Benjamin Green, Freya Manfred, Clarence Wolfshohl, and a dozen other regular contributors to past WTB anthologies, along with the poetry and prose of half a dozen newcomers. There are also excerpts in this collection from WTB titles published during the past few years: Walt Franklin’s Learning the Terrain, Helen Ruggieri’s Campfire Philosophy, and my own Wildness and Being Human. But the centerpiece of this anthology are selections from Scott King’s 365-day nature journal, Following the Earth Around. Scott passed away last year. This anthology is dedicated to him and the spirit of his work.

All the contributors have received a copy already and several of them have indicated that this anthology is an impressive one. I have bought together as many different ways of looking at the natural world as I could, and think they’ve picked up on that. At any rate, I’m proud of this collection and hope that nature lovers everywhere will enjoy reading it.

You can acquire a copy of this book by going to the Wood Thrush Books website. It’s also available at Amazon.com, of course. If you get a copy and read it, let me know what you think.

Tags: anthology, nature essays, outdoor/nature writing, poetry

I am pleased to announce the release of Walt Franklin’s latest collection of essays, Learning the Terrain: Reflections on a Gentle Art, under the Wood Thrush Books imprint. Fly-fishing is the gentle art here, of course, and Franklin is quite adept at it. But this is more than just another fisherman telling tall tales. Franklin is a naturalist with a bamboo rod in hand, a poet wading clear mountain streams. Yes, there is a little poetry mixed into this prose, and a lot of prose that reads like poetry.

Along with plying waters of his home bioregion – upstate New York and north-central Pennsylvania – Franklin recounts excursions to classic trout rivers out west and catching salmon in the tributaries flowing into Lake Ontario. He also tries his hand at saltwater fishing. But it’s the moments when he tunes into the wildness all around him that edifies the reader. Franklin is at home in the natural world. This comes out loud and clear in his work.

After publishing five other books of his, I had resolved to move onto other nature writers. Then I read this collection and felt it had to be ushered into print. You can acquire a copy of this book by going to the Wood Thrush Books website. It is also available at Amazon.com. I doubt you’ll be disappointed.

Tags: coastal fishing, ecology, flora and fauna, fly fishing, landscape, local lore, memoir, mountain streams, nature, outdoor/nature writing, salmon fishing, Western trout rivers

A new day is dawning for yours truly. While I will continue blogging, publishing my books, and occasionally writing short pieces for printed periodicals, I have discovered a new outlet for my work.  Giving credit where credit is due, my wife Judy is the one who brought it to my attention. Anyway, I am now making some of my essays and short narratives available via an online publishing platform called Medium.com.

So far I’ve uploaded half a dozen pieces, both old and new, about my backcountry excursions, pantheism, wildness and being human, and related subjects.  More are on the way.  Check it out.  The first three articles you read at Medium.com are free.  After that, subscription is $5 a month.  You might find other interesting articles there, as well. I’ve done so, along with millions of other people.  It’s a whole new way to connect readers and writers.    

Tags: outdoor/nature writing

Two weeks have gone by since my big hike on the Cohos Trail. All my sores and bug bites have healed now, and my joints aren’t bothering me any more. I’m well rested, well fed, and back into my work routine. I’ve been enjoying all the comforts of life here in the developed lowlands: fresh food, cold beer, soft chairs to sit in, being clean, and always having a dry place to sleep at night. And, most of all, the pleasant company of my wife Judy. There’s a lot to be said for civilized living. Yet I’m feeling the urge to get back in the woods again, hiking somewhere, anywhere. Effortless walks around the neighborhood aren’t quite enough.

As time goes by, I think less and less about all the hardships of the trail, and find myself recalling those precious moments in the wild: awakening to a chorus of forest songbirds, drawing water from a clear stream flowing around moss-covered rocks, and tramping down a narrow trail cutting through birches and ferns. The mind filters experiences before storing them away as memories. Yes, I also recall the bloodsucking bugs, the unpleasant boggy stretches, and that terrible last-mile exhaustion of the longer hiking days. But somehow those memories aren’t such a big deal any more. The highs seem to carry more weight than the lows.

Truth is, every extended solitary hike I do rocks my world in a way that doesn’t immediately make sense to me. Two weeks after my big hike, I’m still feeling a little off balance. It takes time to process an immersion in the wild – time enough to contrast and compare it to my regular routine, I suppose. Time for the mental journey to emerge from the physical one. Time for thoughts and feelings to resurface with a careful rereading of my field journal, or while looking at photos, or while simply reflecting upon a memory coming out of nowhere.

In due time, I’ll figure out what exactly happened to me on the Cohos Trail. Only then will I be able to write about it. But that won’t take place until I have a chance to get back in the woods again. After all, wild thoughts and feelings are best processed in wild places. My armchair reflections don’t quite cut it.

Tags: Cohos Trail, outdoor/nature writing, wild urges