Dear Reader,
Samuel Johnson wrote in a 1783 letter, “Whether this short rustication has done me any good I cannot tell.” Perhaps he should have rusticated longer until he was sure. That seems to be my inclination.
I find myself in the Maine woods wondering abstractedly about many questions that have nothing to do with books or writing:
how long will the bug bite on my elbow keep itching?
will our hiking boots ever really dry out after fording the river in them today?
how many blocks of ice should I buy today now that the fridge in the cabin is on the fritz? how many bags of cubes?
were those prints in the riverbank clawed or cloven?
why don’t all glacial erratics have fern hats?
if a door stands in the forest, does anybody knock?
My preoccupations along these lines are so absorbing that what I really want to offer you this week are a few glimpses of this radiant corner of the world. Please send me glimpses of yours.
xo Nicie
radiant indeed / here's my corner of the world / whoops just realized i can't include a photo in comments : (