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On The Trail

On the Trail: Old & eager

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

The swamps are sporting their royal, invasive purple, yellows are lining the edges, rose of Sharon’s in bloom, mud-splattered acorns are scattered underfoot, my favorite sweet-16 side-by-side is in the shop for repairs and — ah! — life is good. Yet, still, I find myself pondering the mortality of Lily, a dynamo gundog whose age hit double digits on my 35th wedding anniversary in April. Of aristocratic springer spaniel pedigree, … 0

On the Trail: Nuts & bolts

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Photographer friend Erik Hoffner, whose eclectic interests intersect mine in several areas related to nature, worldview and politics, chimed in from the wilds of Ashfield this week speculating that, judging from what he’s seen thus far around home, there’s a bumper-crop of acorns this year. Although I haven’t toured my favorite high ridges, where freeborn spirits whisper in primitive tongues I cannot understand … 0

On the Trail: Sales jobs

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Why not traipse back this week to that old, familiar topic of salmon? Yes, salmon, specifically Connecticut River Atlantic salmon, which I once spent a lot of time and energy on before wandering off to other subjects that tickled my fancy. But now, briefly back to the fish fit for kings and noblemen. Who knows how long before I’ll revisit it again, if … 0

Clockwork

Thursday, April 11, 2013

It’s Wednesday morning, column day, and nothing seems to be going smoothly, especially choosing a topic. One of those days, I suppose. Always dangerous. Never know where a man might wander on a warm spring day. As for my unexpected issues, well, I imagine you all know the … 0

Indian pond

Thursday, April 18, 2013

Where to start? That’s the problem today facing me. I know where I’m headed, just am not sure how to get there. Hmmmm? Bear with me. Plus due to a spring freshet of info overflow, I must run a rare outdoors notebook inside. First, though, I probably ought … 0

Spring things

Thursday, April 25, 2013

The greening of spring can envelop a man with inspiration — a young manured rye field underfoot stretching out in rich, vibrant green to a faraway budding border of faint pastels, high and low, some reds and browns daubed in, the streams at a swollen mumble, soothing from … 0

The legend grows

Thursday, May 2, 2013

The tulip magnolia is back, and so is that solitary Indian camped at the edge of town. First, the magnolia, though, which literally weathered the storm and is now in full bloom, just around the corner from the umbrella table and chairs we put out front for a … 0

Flower power

Thursday, May 9, 2013

It’s that hopeful time of year when things are happening and, no, I haven’t given up on Bull Head Pond. In fact, I have exciting new discoveries pertaining to that forgotten spot, now in another location just a stone’s throw from the 20th century pond called Bull Head … 0

Strange bedfellows

Thursday, May 16, 2013

A rattler it wasn’t, but still, how would like to find one in your lingerie drawer? Yes, it seems dangerous-looking reptiles are lurking in my neighborhood, and that’s what I’m chasing this week; just another interesting little tale that piqued my interest after arriving as an email tip … 0

Fishing for forgiveness

Thursday, May 23, 2013

That mournful flute was entrancing, spooky. Its deep, hollow, haunting moans filled the bright, airy, riverside chamber called Great Hall and pierced a private internal sanctuary in me that few can penetrate, entering through a slim wound that oozed grief, gushed guilt. The handsome wooden instrument still resonated … 0

Bull Head conclusions

Thursday, May 30, 2013

I’ve been tempted lately to jump back into the anadromous fish fray, for which local gadfly Karl Meyer has so capably taken the baton and sprinted off toward a distant, cluttered finish line. But first things first — specifically closure on the location of Greenfield’s Bull Head Pond, … 0

Riverside rambling

Thursday, June 6, 2013

Monday, the morning after, gray and muggy following hard overnight rains. Heavy wet pods atop waist-high orchard-grass stems droop low, seeds shedding onto my shoe-tops, collecting on the shaft of my tiger-striped chestnut crook cane. My feet are wet, getting wetter with each step as a hidden yet … 0

No escape

Thursday, June 13, 2013

The iron bridge connecting Springfield, Vt., and Charlestown, N.H., is straight and narrow, similar indeed to the live-free-or-die creed of rugged individualism and no taxes on the Granite State side. So, no, I can’t say it’s a bit … 0

River reflections

Thursday, July 18, 2013

That bright sliver of a hot new moon had long ago set in the dawning sky and it was boys’ day on the Green River, three of us, grandfather and grandsons. You know what they say about the apple falling not far from the tree. Well, it was … 0

Cover commotion

Thursday, July 25, 2013

It finally arrived Monday! I was starting to wonder. Truth be told, I had been eagerly awaiting it since dismissing as inadequate the homogenized news reports I had read, watched and listened to following that sad day in April when two curb-side pressure cookers exploded, killing three and … 0