My Side of the Mountain

Be you writer or reader, it is very pleasant to run away in a book.

Fortunately, the sun has a wonderfully glorious habit of rising every morning

See that falcon? Hear those white-throated sparrows? Smell that skunk? Well, the falcon takes the sky, the white-throated sparrow takes the low bushes, the skunk takes the earth...I take the woods.

I must say this now about that first fire. It was magic. Out of dead tinder and grass and sticks came a live warm light. It cracked and snapped and smoked and filled the woods with brightness. It lighted the trees and made them warm and friendly. It stood tall and bright and held back the night.

Chicken is Good! It tastes like chicken.