Tree bark is my paper. I sit on a mountain in the Adirondack State Park in New York, about 90 minutes south of Montreal. Between me and the anthill mass of humanity are red squirrels, black bears, bobcats, and coyotes. (more…)

I have never considered myself a coward. In fact, I fancied myself to be a risk-taker. Now that my poor father is squandering his golden years reading my articles, I suppose some of the confessions here will not take him by surprise, at least not too much. (more…)

A painting hangs on a wall in my parents’ home. The painting is of a house in the Adirondack Mountains that my parents built. The house in the painting now belongs to my older sister. (more…)