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| THE BIG WOODS |
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| ANCIENT BIRCH |
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| YOUNG RED PINE |
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| LICHEN COLONIES ON RED OAK TRUNK |
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| I'D REALLY PREFER PECANS |
Sunday, 5:30 PM. Wind WNW, calm at present. It was 22 degrees when I left the woods, 17 degrees when I entered before 7:00 AM this morning. The temperature rose slightly during the day, but the predicted change in the weather never occurred, and it even snowed some in the morning. The barometer is still very high and the humidity very low, the latter evidenced by the fact that at no time today, even at the coldest, did I see my breath.
This was the quietest day in the woods I can remember. Not a crow flew, not a raven croaked. I saw one squirrel and a bluejay, nothing else, not even one of the ubiquitous chickadees. No coyotes or wolves howled. No distant dogs barked. There were several faraway shots in the morning, but besides them utter silence, an almost palpable quiet. An anticipatory silence, promising that something was about to happen any moment because it was so unearthly still. And it was a fickle silence, since nothing ever happened.
But it was a pretty day in its own quiet way and I did not mind spending it in silence in the woods. It gave me plenty of opportunity to think and I was not bored. And contrary to yesterday, which was filled with random thoughts of poetic mysticism, the thoughts of today were bare-boned practical; things to be done at home, business to be taken care of, what’s for dinner. Life and its thoughts have a way of balancing themselves, if we are fortunate.
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