I spent last week in the North woods of Michigan's Upper Peninsula, camping and hiking and first dreading, then hoping for, an encounter with a bear. Much as I love working with wood, being surrounded by mile after mile of actual living trees, and the attendant wildness and beauty of the forest, still hits a spot in me that nothing else can reach. Much as I love music, in my mind there is nothing lovelier to listen to than the sound of a brook, or stream, or creek going about its business.
And yes, I did see that bear, on the morning of my departure. It took me a few seconds to work out what it was. As it stood by the side of the road, leaning on a bridge railing, I mistook it for a carving of a bear, just like the somewhat kitschy deer statues that people in the country often place in their front yards. But then it turned tail and ran. So much for that.
And yes, I did see that bear, on the morning of my departure. It took me a few seconds to work out what it was. As it stood by the side of the road, leaning on a bridge railing, I mistook it for a carving of a bear, just like the somewhat kitschy deer statues that people in the country often place in their front yards. But then it turned tail and ran. So much for that.
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