Reflections

Some spawn stories that will be told for generations.

Sometimes a bad turn in the weather works out just fine.

A special gift of color found on a drab, gray landscape.

The restlessness of fall approaching is felt in the bones; it moves us to action, wildlife as well.

Finding honor in the woods leads to a chance encounter and question.

Not long ago, my son Aaron and I were invited to help deliver the 64-foot sloop “MicJay” from Charlevoix to Toronto.

We step outside hoping to hear the songs of orioles and spring peepers and the bassoon rumble of frogs mating in the neighbor’s pond and, instead, are struck by a cold wind from the north and a rattling of sleet.

We spent the night with our friends Betsy and Eric in a cottage they had rented on the shore of Lake Michigan near Point Betsie. The cottage was a 1950s-era Cape Cod perched on a dune a pebble toss from the waves breaking on the beach.

It’s an illusion, of course, but winter hours seem longer. In summer, when the days last from five in the morning until 10 at...

When the wind started banging against the windows of our house, I put on my coat and drove to the foot of West Grand...