“We will be nearly finished, I think, when we stop understanding the old pull towards green things and living things, toward dirt and rain and heat and what they spawn.” — John Graves State #50/50: Caught between seasons, my Dad, … Continue reading
(State #22/50) We overuse and misuse many words nowadays. I wont say I’m as guilty as they come, but I am guilty — I’ve called coincidences ironic, I’ve referred to cups of coffee as awesome and I once literally ate 1,000 … Continue reading
(State #20/50) The day started rough; I woke up next to a busy blacktop road in Maine on a drizzly and bug ridden morning. Breaking ‘camp,’ I didn’t bother to stow the tent properly as it was sopping wet and … Continue reading
(State #18/50) The day: sunny and warm. The water: clear and sparkling. The mountains lining the valley: a patchwork of green. As for Trevor and I… we were both nervous and excited. Well, maybe just nervous. We had arrived in the … Continue reading
(State #13/50) The river was well named — it was a dale flanked by pasturelands of mooing cows, farmhouses and forest covered mountains. Pinewoods and sheer rock cliffs existed where there weren’t fields. The Indians named it Walatoola originally, meaning … Continue reading
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