The life of the wood, meadow, and lake go on without us. Flowers bloom, set seed and die back; squirrels hide nuts in the fall and scold all year long; bobcats track the snowy lake in winter; deer browse the willow shoots in spring. Humans are but intruders who have presumed the right to be observers, and who, out of observation, find understanding.
A beaver does not, as legend would have it, know which direction the tree will fall when he cuts it, but counts on alacrity to make up for lack of en… - Ann Zwinger
A beaver does not, as legend would have it, know which direction the tree will fall when he cuts it, but counts on alacrity to make up for lack of en…
- Ann Zwinger
Flies are the price we pay for summer. - Ann Zwinger
Flies are the price we pay for summer.
I have walked this south stream when to believe in spring was an act of faith. It was spitting snow and blowing, and within two days of being May .… - Ann Zwinger
I have walked this south stream when to believe in spring was an act of faith. It was spitting snow and blowing, and within two days of being May .…
The life of the wood, meadow, and lake go on without us. Flowers bloom, set seed and die back; squirrels hide nuts in the fall and scold all year lon… - Ann Zwinger
The life of the wood, meadow, and lake go on without us. Flowers bloom, set seed and die back; squirrels hide nuts in the fall and scold all year lon…
Dryness promotes the formation of flower buds...flowering is, after all, not an aesthetic contribution, but a survival mechanism. - Ann Zwinger
Dryness promotes the formation of flower buds...flowering is, after all, not an aesthetic contribution, but a survival mechanism.
There will always be something new to discover: a minute moss never found before, a rabbit eating birdseed with the bores on a hungry November day, a… - Ann Zwinger
There will always be something new to discover: a minute moss never found before, a rabbit eating birdseed with the bores on a hungry November day, a…
When there is a river in your growing up, you probably always hear it - Ann Zwinger
When there is a river in your growing up, you probably always hear it
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