Today we ate a late lunch of re-heated pinto beans and set out, sleds in tow, to move spruce rounds from the edge of the oil road. There are two sleds, both black plastic, one large, one smaller. One holds five spruce rounds, stacked in a pyramid, tilting and tipping on the packed-snow inclines of … Continue reading woodsponies
Little House in the Extensive Woods
Holy books and melting icicles
------------------------------ I had a dream this morning, fast asleep in Little House, with the bright light of day streaming in the cabin window- first I woke up, at 7:34, in time for work, but it was the weekend so I pulled a striped t-shirt over my face and went back to sleep, and then the … Continue reading Holy books and melting icicles
Breakup. My Happy Place.
It had been a long week in the land of Electricity, Alarm Clocks, Florescent Lighting and Cherry Ice-Cream, all things that I have come to associate with my job. Then, yesterday mid-day, I was finally back at little house again, for a single precious night! River and I crossed the river with our black plastic … Continue reading Breakup. My Happy Place.
ees good, these life
laundry . . we helped friends build a barn for their pregnant cow . . a friend's woodstove . . dinner . . roadkill moosemeat stew . . my pack . . 8 a.m., twelve below, the frozen river
for April
The days are warmer now, nearly forty degrees! I hauled wood today in a t-shirt, sat for a moment in the sun on an old log. The snow is wetter, glowier, it shines like white glitter in the mornings. River says the birch trees look more alive but I haven’t noticed, I don’t know this … Continue reading for April
Little House in the Extensive Woods
We woke up early this morning in the little house in the extensive woods, at least early for us. Crack of nine a.m.! We had a pan of brownies to make, or rather River did, for Tod was coming from town with his chainsaw to “buck” some trees for us, pulled from the stacks of … Continue reading Little House in the Extensive Woods
The ogres and the woodpile, birch-bark, whitefish stew
The cabin where I am is whitewashed inside, not dark and low-roofed like the trapper cabins you see here and there in the woods, buried in snow drifts and hung with rusting, dull-edged tools. This cabin is a woodsmoke-white inside with a good window that faces the slough, four big panes rimmed with tinsel-frost in … Continue reading The ogres and the woodpile, birch-bark, whitefish stew
CARROT QUINN 
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