Dan

My father once made a gift of this book to me, and I still remember being transformed by the beauty of it.

I lost the original copy he gave me, but I was able to replace it today.

Last week I re-read Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. It fits in with a recent inclination to read personal accounts by gifted observers of the natural world. Writing by Thoreau, Annie Dillard, John McPhee (Encounters With the Archdruid is a wonderful book) has gotten me through another lonely winter.

For those with limited reading time, another short but wonderful book about cultural identity and living ‘closer to the bone,' is Margaret Craven's I Heard the Owl Call My Name (1967.)

I read it a couple of weeks ago on the plane returning from California. The more I read, the tinier the plane's cabin became. British Columbia here I come.