My dogs run in a silent world. There is shadow and light; there are whip-like saplings and crumpled fern; there is, always, scent. But there is no sound. The dogs are deaf. They hunt in a dream world where everything is real save for sound. They hunt in silence. They run (more)

Daybreak was a number on a watch face that I could not read; a rumor whispered too soft to be heard. Dawn was a concept more than reality. It was very dark and the world was of black and gray and shadow and nothing was distinct. The moon shone clear early (more)

The storm came down at three o’clock in the morning. It rained hard and the wind blew stiff and cold. There were two of us in the tent and it felt as if we were inside a drum set. Sally asked what time it was and I told her. We didn’t (more)

There comes a time when the pace of life quickens as a river that runs slow and easy narrows, tightens, picks up speed in riffles and then rapids where a stone’s throw away it ran smooth and quiet. Watch a river change pace; in that see more than moving water. (more)

I adapted to riding bikes in the heat of summer so long ago I can’t remember the year. I always liked to ride but I hated to ride in the heat. Then I took a bike trip. Boxed the bike and flew to California. Assembled the bike, loaded it with (more)