It is in midwinter that I sometimes glean from my pines... a curious transfusion of courage.

Land is not merely soil, it is a fountain of energy flowing through a circuit of soils, plants and animals.

Cease being intimidated by the argument that a right action is impossible because it does not yield maximum profits, or that a wrong action is to be condoned because it pays.

Our ability to perceive quality in nature begins, as in art, with the pretty.

We can be ethical only in relation to something we can see, feel, understand, love, or otherwise have faith in.

My dog does not care where heat comes from, but he cares that it comes, and soon. Indeed he considers my ability to make it come as something magical, for when I rise in the coal black pre-dawn and kneel by the hearth to make a fire, he pushes himself blandly between me and the kindling splits I have laid in the ashes, and I must touch a match to them by poking it between his legs. Such faith , I suppose, is the kind that moves mountains.

Wildflower corners are easy to maintain, but once gone, they are hard to rebuild.