<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><rss xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/" xmlns:blogger="http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" version="2.0"><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8220036723951245596</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Thu, 17 Sep 2015 05:02:46 +0000</lastBuildDate><category>canoe trip</category><title>Spirit of the Northwoods</title><description>A site dedicated to bringing people closer to Nature through my own thoughts, as well as through the teachings of Thoreau, Emerson, Olson, and others.</description><link>http://spiritofthenorthwoods.blogspot.com/</link><managingEditor>noreply@blogger.com (NorthWoodsGuy)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>53</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8220036723951245596.post-4225690147373168495</guid><pubDate>Thu, 27 Jan 2011 16:45:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-02-22T08:58:30.140-06:00</atom:updated><title>A Spark</title><description>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/TUGdosJsj2I/AAAAAAAAAO0/0VEte_OaKxY/s1600/Alone.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;243&quot; src=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/TUGdosJsj2I/AAAAAAAAAO0/0VEte_OaKxY/s320/Alone.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some say Thoreau lost some of his deeply spiritual interest in Nature later in life when he started to focus more on the scientific approach (see his book &lt;i&gt;Wild Fruits or &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.wesleyan.edu/synthesis/Synthesis/Thoreau.html&quot;&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;). I used to wonder how this could have&amp;nbsp;possibly&amp;nbsp;happened. He was, after all, only forty-four when he died;&amp;nbsp;forty-four. For me,&amp;nbsp;forty-four&amp;nbsp;is right around the corner and it strikes me as ironic that I too had lost that spark,&amp;nbsp;or pieces of it,&amp;nbsp;around the same age, over the past year (hence my lack of entries). And it made me sad I had lost it. I didn&#39;t know the root cause then and still don&#39;t to this day. It surely wasn&#39;t to study the science of Nature. Work, family, state of the world? Who knows? Don&#39;t get me wrong, I had my &#39;good&#39; days when a beautiful sunset would stop me in my tracks or a thunder storm would trigger the awe I once had as a child but for the most part, I became disconnected with Nature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now I feel all is not lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I recently went on a&amp;nbsp;snowshoe&amp;nbsp;trek and a little of Nature&#39;s healing powers had once again made its way into my soul. Not in the big blanket, head-to-toe kind of way. But in a small but still significant way. And it made me happy. It made me happy to realize that I could get it back and all is not lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It&#39;s good to be back - even a little bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PHv40RnWSJw/TUGdr7U7siI/AAAAAAAAAO4/Y2y83CXpo-I/s1600/Wife+and+I.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;243&quot; src=&quot;http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PHv40RnWSJw/TUGdr7U7siI/AAAAAAAAAO4/Y2y83CXpo-I/s320/Wife+and+I.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://spiritofthenorthwoods.blogspot.com/2011/01/spark.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (NorthWoodsGuy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/TUGdosJsj2I/AAAAAAAAAO0/0VEte_OaKxY/s72-c/Alone.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8220036723951245596.post-3489105005433109368</guid><pubDate>Mon, 26 Oct 2009 16:47:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2014-09-14T13:56:59.656-05:00</atom:updated><title>Enough Already</title><description>&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin: 0px;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-size: small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;&quot;&gt;I am normally a very mild mannered individual. It takes a lot to get me angry. But it happened this past Saturday while on my walk.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-size: small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;&quot;&gt;During my country walks, I usually see quite a bit of trash along the sides of the road, mostly beer cans (Busch Light is the obvious beer of choice around here) and although it is hard for me to live with, I&#39;ve come to accept that some people are just pigs with no regard for the environment. But this Saturday I came upon something that left me&amp;nbsp;dumbfounded&amp;nbsp;- I found this abandoned in the ditch:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin: 0px;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-size: x-small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; margin: 0px; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-size: x-small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SuXA_yL3kuI/AAAAAAAAANg/nQYAdxXqzr4/s1600-h/IMG_1588_1024.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SuXA_yL3kuI/AAAAAAAAANg/nQYAdxXqzr4/s320/IMG_1588_1024.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; margin: 0px; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-size: x-small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; margin: 0px; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-size: small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;&quot;&gt;A grill. A full-sized gas grill. Here is another perspective - see the &quot;peel-out marks&quot; on the side of the road? (click image to enlarge) They must have been in a hurry - or drunk - or both.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; margin: 0px; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SuXE4zwY-GI/AAAAAAAAANo/aS10GX6VG8g/s1600-h/IMG_1587_1024.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SuXE4zwY-GI/AAAAAAAAANo/aS10GX6VG8g/s320/IMG_1587_1024.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;&lt;br class=&quot;Apple-interchange-newline&quot; /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black; font-size: small;&quot;&gt;I&#39;m not sure how many of you remember the Native American in the 1970&#39;s commercial who shed a tear for all of the pollution surrounding him but I almost felt that disgusted.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black; font-size: small;&quot;&gt;Can people do this without remorse or guilt because they believe there is a garbage fairy that will magically come through and clean up after them? I can assure them that there is not and somebody will need to clean this up because of their laziness and irresponsibility.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black; font-size: small;&quot;&gt;Here is another example I came across this summer while wading one of my favorite streams. This beautiful sandbar was made ugly by a few individuals with no reverence for Nature or their fellow human being. Of course this garbage will be swept downstream when the Spring floods arrive next year, giving everyone downstream the opportunity to clean-up after them. Since this incident, I now pack a garbage bag with me for such wonderful encounters. Unfortunately, the grill wouldn&#39;t fit. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black; font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;Again, click the pictures to get a better idea of the amount of trash they left behind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black; font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SuXKOcyAJeI/AAAAAAAAAOA/AZKSryWUxjs/s1600-h/IMG_1305_1024.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SuXKOcyAJeI/AAAAAAAAAOA/AZKSryWUxjs/s320/IMG_1305_1024.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black; font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SuXKLWLScSI/AAAAAAAAAN4/b0Vmq0IDfu8/s1600-h/IMG_1301_1024.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SuXKLWLScSI/AAAAAAAAAN4/b0Vmq0IDfu8/s320/IMG_1301_1024.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href=&quot;http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SuXKOcyAJeI/AAAAAAAAAOA/AZKSryWUxjs/s1600-h/IMG_1305_1024.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SuXKOcyAJeI/AAAAAAAAAOA/AZKSryWUxjs/s320/IMG_1305_1024.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SuXUDwNzzJI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/AFJZDEszOGU/s1600-h/IMG_1299_1024.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SuXUDwNzzJI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/AFJZDEszOGU/s320/IMG_1299_1024.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black; font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;I&#39;m sure the person(s) who left the grill in the ditch and the trash on the sandbar wouldn&#39;t care if everyone started leaving their garbage and waste wherever they wanted. That is, of course, as long as it wasn&#39;t in their backyard. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black; font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;I hate to conclude on such a sour note so I&#39;ll leave you with a picture of this beautiful flower I took on the same day as the sandbar incident. It saved my day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SuXNuxHdaLI/AAAAAAAAAOI/C_Lqw99pDT4/s1600-h/IMG_1306_1024.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SuXNuxHdaLI/AAAAAAAAAOI/C_Lqw99pDT4/s320/IMG_1306_1024.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black; font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</description><link>http://spiritofthenorthwoods.blogspot.com/2009/10/enough-already.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (NorthWoodsGuy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SuXA_yL3kuI/AAAAAAAAANg/nQYAdxXqzr4/s72-c/IMG_1588_1024.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>7</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8220036723951245596.post-903520638177953627</guid><pubDate>Mon, 19 Oct 2009 14:16:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-19T15:42:15.197-05:00</atom:updated><title>Carpe Diem!</title><description>If September was Yin, October is turning out to be Yang. September was an unseasonably warm month, while October is turning into one of the coldest and snowiest. Where I live in Minnesota we have only reached a high of 47 degrees - making this the &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.kare11.com/weather/weather_article.aspx?storyid=826732&amp;amp;catid=80&quot;&gt;coldest October ever on record&lt;/a&gt; so far. Now don&#39;t get me wrong, I don&#39;t mind cold weather (if I did I certainly wouldn&#39;t live in Minnesota) but when my mind is expecting something more seasonable, this kind of weather puts a hamper on any planned activities that are more conducive to warmer weather.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But all is not lost! Yesterday was an absolutely beautiful 62 degrees with the gorgeous Sun making an all day appearance, which has stayed mostly hidden during the first two weeks of October. So trying to take full advantage of this rare occurrence, I decided to make my way to the woods and soak in what I could of this stunningly beautiful Fall day. And one of my favorite ways to do this is biking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could try and describe how glorious this day was but I&#39;m afraid I could not do the day justice so I will try and let these pictures describe it for me, even though they too pale in comparison to being there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #000099;&quot;&gt;&quot;I love Nature partly because she is not man, but a retreat from him. None of his institutions control or pervade her. There a different kind of right prevails. In her midst I can be glad with an entire gladness. If this world were all man, I could not stretch myself, I should lose all hope. He is constraint, she is freedom to me. He makes me wish for another world. She makes me content with this.&quot; [Thoreau - Journal 3 January 1853]       &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/Stx_vcFBRaI/AAAAAAAAAMY/pTdk6MfHlb4/s1600-h/IMG_1574_1024_1.jpg&quot; onblur=&quot;try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}&quot;&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394326906650838434&quot; src=&quot;http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/Stx_vcFBRaI/AAAAAAAAAMY/pTdk6MfHlb4/s320/IMG_1574_1024_1.jpg&quot; style=&quot;cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 242px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #000099;&quot;&gt;&quot;By my intimacy with nature I find myself withdrawn from man. My interest in the sun and the moon, in the morning and the evening, compels me to solitude.&quot; [ Thoreau -Journal, 26 July 1851]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #000099;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/StzPGfUi4qI/AAAAAAAAAM4/1nq70CaLPrw/s1600-h/IMG_1572_1024_1.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/StzPGfUi4qI/AAAAAAAAAM4/1nq70CaLPrw/s320/IMG_1572_1024_1.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #000099;&quot;&gt;&quot;I long for wildness, a nature which I cannot put my foot through, woods where the wood thrush forever sings, where the hours are early morning ones, and there is dew on the grass, and the day is forever unproved, where I might have a fertile unknown for a soil about me.&quot; [Thoreau - Journal, 22 June 1853]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #000099;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/StzMqvE0nTI/AAAAAAAAAMo/ho6D-5TGXek/s1600-h/IMG_1566_1024_1.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/StzMqvE0nTI/AAAAAAAAAMo/ho6D-5TGXek/s320/IMG_1566_1024_1.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #000099;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #000099;&quot;&gt;&quot;In Wildness is the preservation of the World.&quot; [Thoreau - &quot;Walking&quot;]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #000099;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/StzMzNF3TDI/AAAAAAAAAMw/xjm-4MJ2Ya8/s1600-h/IMG_1567_1024_1.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/StzMzNF3TDI/AAAAAAAAAMw/xjm-4MJ2Ya8/s320/IMG_1567_1024_1.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #000099;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #000099;&quot;&gt;&quot;We need the tonic of wildness — to wade sometimes in marshes where the bittern and the meadow wren lurk, and hearing the booming of the snipe; to smell the whispering sedge where only some wilder and more solitary fowl builds her nest, and the mink crawls with its belly close to the ground. [Thoreau  - Walden &quot;Spring&quot;]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/Stx_cNZSAZI/AAAAAAAAAL4/u1V4tQ6YZ5Q/s1600-h/IMG_1565_1024_1.jpg&quot; onblur=&quot;try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}&quot;&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394326576291774866&quot; src=&quot;http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/Stx_cNZSAZI/AAAAAAAAAL4/u1V4tQ6YZ5Q/s320/IMG_1565_1024_1.jpg&quot; style=&quot;cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 242px;&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #000099;&quot;&gt;&quot;The order of things should be reversed: the seventh should be man’s day of toil, wherein to earn his living by the sweat of his brow; and the other six his Sabbath of the affections and the soul,—in which to range this widespread garden, and drink in the soft influences and sublime revelations of nature.&quot; — Thoreau, “Commercial Spirit”, (Harvard College Commencement, 1837)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/Stx_bhMtVTI/AAAAAAAAALw/ihlLw2Wufpc/s1600-h/IMG_1562_1024_1.jpg&quot; onblur=&quot;try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}&quot;&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394326564427879730&quot; src=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/Stx_bhMtVTI/AAAAAAAAALw/ihlLw2Wufpc/s320/IMG_1562_1024_1.jpg&quot; style=&quot;cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 242px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;</description><link>http://spiritofthenorthwoods.blogspot.com/2009/10/carpe-diem.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (NorthWoodsGuy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/Stx_vcFBRaI/AAAAAAAAAMY/pTdk6MfHlb4/s72-c/IMG_1574_1024_1.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8220036723951245596.post-1945619178580608466</guid><pubDate>Mon, 31 Aug 2009 14:38:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-31T09:58:11.069-05:00</atom:updated><title>When I Heard the Learn’d Astronomer</title><description>&lt;a onblur=&quot;try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}&quot; href=&quot;http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SpviNdgd7YI/AAAAAAAAALo/bbuL4uSd2F8/s1600-h/stars.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;float:left; margin:0 10px 0px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;&quot; src=&quot;http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SpviNdgd7YI/AAAAAAAAALo/bbuL4uSd2F8/s320/stars.jpg&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376139301083803010&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I first came across this poem quite some time ago and recently re-discovered it. It&#39;s one that really strikes home with me because in my profession, I am inundated with details and specifications. So much so that I often lose sight of the big picture and what really matters. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hope you enjoy it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot;   style=&quot; color: rgb(77, 74, 66);  line-height: 18px; font-family:Verdana;font-size:11px;&quot;&gt;&lt;h1 style=&quot;font-size: 22px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-decoration: inherit; font: normal normal normal 22px/1.2 Arial; &quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot;  style=&quot;color:#000099;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h1&gt;&lt;h2 style=&quot;font-size: 14px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-decoration: inherit; color: rgb(77, 74, 66); font: normal normal normal 14px/1.3 Verdana; &quot;&gt;When I Heard the Learn&#39;d Astronomer - Walt Whitman&lt;/h2&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot;  style=&quot; ;font-size:12px;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot;  style=&quot;color:#000099;&quot;&gt;When I heard the learn&#39;d astronomer;&lt;br /&gt;When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me;&lt;br /&gt;When I was shown the charts and the diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them;&lt;br /&gt;When I, sitting, heard the astronomer, where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,&lt;br /&gt;How soon, unaccountable, I became tired and sick;&lt;br /&gt;Till rising and gliding out, I wander&#39;d off by myself,&lt;br /&gt;In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,&lt;br /&gt;Look&#39;d up in perfect silence at the stars.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://spiritofthenorthwoods.blogspot.com/2009/08/when-i-heard-learnd-astronomer.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (NorthWoodsGuy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SpviNdgd7YI/AAAAAAAAALo/bbuL4uSd2F8/s72-c/stars.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8220036723951245596.post-1851371728810413081</guid><pubDate>Fri, 28 Aug 2009 17:32:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-28T12:55:20.393-05:00</atom:updated><title>Rebuttal To My Previous Post</title><description>&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot;  style=&quot;font-family:Arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot; white-space: pre;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot;  style=&quot;font-size:small;&quot;&gt;Went for a very enjoyable bike ride today. I shot this video that can explain it better than I can try to explain it in words.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot;  style=&quot;font-family:Arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot; white-space: pre;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot;  style=&quot;font-size:small;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot;  style=&quot;font-family:Arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot; white-space: pre;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot;  style=&quot;font-size:small;&quot;&gt;FYI...you can&#39;t hear the crickets in the video because I shot it with my phone, which also explains the poor quality, but they were chirping like there &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot;  style=&quot;font-family:Arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot; white-space: pre;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot;  style=&quot;font-size:small;&quot;&gt;is no tomorrow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot;   style=&quot;  white-space: pre; font-family:Arial;font-size:48px;&quot;&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;object width=&quot;320&quot; height=&quot;266&quot; class=&quot;BLOG_video_class&quot; id=&quot;BLOG_video-383081484b550a86&quot; classid=&quot;clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000&quot; codebase=&quot;http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0&quot;&gt;&lt;param name=&quot;movie&quot; value=&quot;https://www.youtube.com/get_player&quot;&gt;&lt;param name=&quot;bgcolor&quot; value=&quot;#FFFFFF&quot;&gt;&lt;param name=&quot;allowfullscreen&quot; value=&quot;true&quot;&gt;&lt;param name=&quot;flashvars&quot; value=&quot;flvurl=https://redirector.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D383081484b550a86%26itag%3D5%26source%3Dblogger%26requiressl%3Dyes%26app%3Dblogger%26cmo%3Dsecure_transport%3Dyes%26cmo%3Dsensitive_content%3Dyes%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1478326179%26sparams%3Dip,ipbits,expire,id,itag,source,requiressl%26signature%3D1004DC8B659116372BAB8DC3A8124EB1831A1FD2.80C7042E81B825A6FDEADA8838817F6BB38E0630%26key%3Dck2&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D383081484b550a86%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DvSAZhbwTEvzAFnakgLs7Wb9J6WQ&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger&quot;&gt;&lt;embed src=&quot;https://www.youtube.com/get_player&quot; type=&quot;application/x-shockwave-flash&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; height=&quot;266&quot; bgcolor=&quot;#FFFFFF&quot; flashvars=&quot;flvurl=https://redirector.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D383081484b550a86%26itag%3D5%26source%3Dblogger%26requiressl%3Dyes%26app%3Dblogger%26cmo%3Dsecure_transport%3Dyes%26cmo%3Dsensitive_content%3Dyes%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1478326179%26sparams%3Dip,ipbits,expire,id,itag,source,requiressl%26signature%3D1004DC8B659116372BAB8DC3A8124EB1831A1FD2.80C7042E81B825A6FDEADA8838817F6BB38E0630%26key%3Dck2&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D383081484b550a86%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DvSAZhbwTEvzAFnakgLs7Wb9J6WQ&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger&quot; allowFullScreen=&quot;true&quot; /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><enclosure type='video/mp4' url='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=383081484b550a86&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link>http://spiritofthenorthwoods.blogspot.com/2009/08/rebuttal-to-my-previous-post.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (NorthWoodsGuy)</author><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8220036723951245596.post-7615324106548376472</guid><pubDate>Thu, 27 Aug 2009 00:16:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-26T20:33:14.948-05:00</atom:updated><title>Dreamer vs. DOer</title><description>&lt;a onblur=&quot;try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}&quot; href=&quot;http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SpXZfh5tPgI/AAAAAAAAALg/rVWudqWfIiI/s1600-h/IMG_1379_edited.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;&quot; src=&quot;http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SpXZfh5tPgI/AAAAAAAAALg/rVWudqWfIiI/s320/IMG_1379_edited.jpg&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374440866036137474&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I&#39;m not sure how many people will read this since it&#39;s been a few months since my last post but I feel compelled to write it anyway. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have a confession. As sad as it makes me feel to write this, I am more of a Dreamer than a DOer. I love to dream about all of these great trips that I&#39;m going to take and all these great things that I&#39;m going to do, but when all is said and done, more is said than done. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There is no doubt that it gets my blood pumping and my imagination flowing when I read about other&#39;s great adventures, but when it comes time for me to walk-the-walk, I stumble and fall. It seems I always have something that is more important that I need to do first. Or the weather is just not quite right. Or the bugs are too bad. Or I have to get this project done. Or the drive is just too long. Or it&#39;s just too much work and not worth the bother. Can you believe it - not worth the bother?!?! Here I am, a man that preaches about all of the wonderful gifts that Mother Nature has to offer each and every one of us and here I sit in my basement thinking about the trip I would like to do &quot;next year&quot; knowing full well that chances are it is never going to come to fruition. The wind will be against me that day. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have a friend, who I envy a great deal, that is the Yin to my Yang. He always finds the time to fit the important things in his life, like enjoying all that the outdoors has to offer, into his schedule. It doesn&#39;t matter that he just drove 400 miles for his job during the day on Friday. Come Friday night, he and his family will be in their car heading 300 miles North just to turn around two days later and drive 300 miles back. For him, he knows what matters most and is willing to do what is necessary to make it happen. Me? Even though I hold Nature very close to my heart and she gives me something very special each and every time I visit her, the slightest ripple will make me reconsider and put it off for another day. &quot;There&#39;s always tomorrow/next year.&quot; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I&#39;ve tried many times to change my way of thinking and my friend has helped me a great deal to see the light. But I still feel like I don&#39;t take full advantage of what lies all around me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Take for example the solo canoe trip I was planning to take this summer. Did I do it? No. Why? Because first the water was too high and then it was too low and then I hadn&#39;t taken my new canoe out yet so I thought I had better make its maiden voyage on a small lake just so I can get a feel for how it rides on non-moving water instead of on the small river I was planning my trip on just because it has a few turns and obstacles. But have I taken the canoe (that I bought new in May just for this trip) out even once this year? You know the answer by now - absolutely not. There it hangs in my garage collecting a thick layer of dust. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I also had plans to do some long hikes this year. Never happened. Biking? Never happened, at least not on the large overnight scale. I like to blame my situation - married with 3 kids and a job that can be very consuming at times. But in reality, the burden falls on me and me alone. Like my friend, I could find time if I really wanted to. I just don&#39;t.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maybe laying this out there for you to read will motivate me enough the next time an opportunity arrises where I can do what I truly love. At least that&#39;s my hope.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I do have a trip coming up in three weeks that will take me to God&#39;s country once again. A place where I&#39;m truly happy (once I&#39;m there). And the person planning this trip? My friend I wrote of earlier. I have him to thank for many of my recent adventures. And I thank him every chance I get. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thanks for listening. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://spiritofthenorthwoods.blogspot.com/2009/08/dreamer-vs-doer.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (NorthWoodsGuy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SpXZfh5tPgI/AAAAAAAAALg/rVWudqWfIiI/s72-c/IMG_1379_edited.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>4</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8220036723951245596.post-4151004536935890489</guid><pubDate>Fri, 12 Jun 2009 15:22:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-06-12T11:21:57.140-05:00</atom:updated><title>Safer Up There</title><description>&lt;a onblur=&quot;try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}&quot; href=&quot;http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SjJ8TahHFjI/AAAAAAAAAK8/HWxa8LVxySg/s1600-h/RiverBank.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 242px;&quot; src=&quot;http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SjJ8TahHFjI/AAAAAAAAAK8/HWxa8LVxySg/s320/RiverBank.JPG&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346472380619757106&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found this poem by &lt;a href=&quot;http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Author:Robert_W._Service&quot;&gt;Robert Service&lt;/a&gt; while reading &lt;a href=&quot;http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/One_Man%27s_Wilderness&quot;&gt;&quot;One Man&#39;s Wilderness&quot;&lt;/a&gt; and thought I would share it here:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;I’m Scared of it All&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style=&quot;color: rgb(0, 0, 153);&quot;&gt;I’m scared of it all, God’s truth! so I am;&lt;br /&gt;It’s too big and brutal for me.&lt;br /&gt;My nerve’s on the raw and I don’t give a damn&lt;br /&gt;For all the “hoorah” that I see.&lt;br /&gt;I’m pinned between subway and overhead train,&lt;br /&gt;Where automobillies swoop down:&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I want to go back to the timber again —&lt;br /&gt;I’m scared of the terrible town.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style=&quot;color: rgb(0, 0, 153);&quot;&gt;I want to go back to my lean, ashen plains;&lt;br /&gt;My rivers that flash into foam;&lt;br /&gt;My ultimate valleys where solitude reigns;&lt;br /&gt;My trail from Fort Churchill to Nome.&lt;br /&gt;My forests packed full of mysterious gloom,&lt;br /&gt;My ice-fields agrind and aglare:&lt;br /&gt;The city is deadfalled with danger and doom —&lt;br /&gt;I know that I’m safer up there.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style=&quot;color: rgb(0, 0, 153);&quot;&gt;I watch the wan faces that flash in the street;&lt;br /&gt;All kinds and all classes I see.&lt;br /&gt;Yet never a one in the million I meet,&lt;br /&gt;Has the smile of a comrade for me.&lt;br /&gt;Just jaded and panting like dogs in a pack;&lt;br /&gt;Just tensed and intent on the goal:&lt;br /&gt;O God! but I’m lonesome — I wish I was back,&lt;br /&gt;Up there in the land of the Pole.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style=&quot;color: rgb(0, 0, 153);&quot;&gt;I wish I was back on the Hunger Plateaus,&lt;br /&gt;And seeking the lost caribou;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I was up where the Coppermine flows&lt;br /&gt;To the kick of my little canoe.&lt;br /&gt;I’d like to be far on some weariful shore,&lt;br /&gt;In the Land of the Blizzard and Bear;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I wish I was snug in the Arctic once more,&lt;br /&gt;For I know I am safer up there!&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style=&quot;color: rgb(0, 0, 153);&quot;&gt;I prowl in the canyons of dismal unrest;&lt;br /&gt;I cringe — I’m so weak and so small.&lt;br /&gt;I can’t get my bearings, I’m crushed and oppressed&lt;br /&gt;With the haste and the waste of it all.&lt;br /&gt;The slaves and the madman, the lust and the sweat,&lt;br /&gt;The fear in the faces I see;&lt;br /&gt;The getting, the spending, the fever, the fret —&lt;br /&gt;It’s too bleeding cruel for me.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style=&quot;color: rgb(0, 0, 153);&quot;&gt;I feel it’s all wrong, but I can’t tell you why —&lt;br /&gt;The palace, the hovel next door;&lt;br /&gt;The insolent towers that sprawl to the sky,&lt;br /&gt;The crush and the rush and the roar.&lt;br /&gt;I’m trapped like a fox and I fear for my pelt;&lt;br /&gt;I cower in the crash and the glare;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I want to be back in the avalanche belt,&lt;br /&gt;For I know that it’s safer up there!&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style=&quot;color: rgb(0, 0, 153);&quot;&gt;I’m scared of it all: Oh, afar I can hear&lt;br /&gt;The voice of my solitudes call!&lt;br /&gt;We’re nothing but brute with a little veneer,&lt;br /&gt;And nature is best after all.&lt;br /&gt;There’s tumult and terror abroad in the street;&lt;br /&gt;There’s menace and doom in the air;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve got to get back to my thousand-mile beat;&lt;br /&gt;The trail where the cougar and silver-tip meet;&lt;br /&gt;The snows and the camp-fire, with wolves at my feet;&lt;br /&gt;Good-bye, for it’s safer up there.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With all of the apparent madness in the world these days (just watch the National News - they will tell you), this poem struck me not only as timely (I guess it has always been timely - at least since the Industrial Revolution) but as the obvious truth.  I feel more at home, more at peace,  with my surroundings when I am in Nature than at any other time. The madness melts away and leaves me only with solitude and silence to ponder. My senses are more keen and my body feels the presence of everything surrounding me. I am truly alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This poem can be found in Robert Service&#39;s &quot;Rhymes of a Rolling Stone&quot;, which I included on this blog as a &lt;a href=&quot;http://abuck10.fileave.com/Rhymes%20of%20a%20Rolling%20Stone.pdf&quot;&gt;free PDF&lt;/a&gt;. I hope you check it out.</description><link>http://spiritofthenorthwoods.blogspot.com/2009/06/safer-up-there.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (NorthWoodsGuy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SjJ8TahHFjI/AAAAAAAAAK8/HWxa8LVxySg/s72-c/RiverBank.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8220036723951245596.post-4066095952595624408</guid><pubDate>Wed, 20 May 2009 13:58:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-05-20T10:55:49.906-05:00</atom:updated><title>Back From God&#39;s Country</title><description>&lt;a onblur=&quot;try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}&quot; href=&quot;http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/ShQR-twzMjI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/KaPQnro6Qb8/s1600-h/Driving+Snow.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 241px;&quot; src=&quot;http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/ShQR-twzMjI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/KaPQnro6Qb8/s320/Driving+Snow.JPG&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337911227474719282&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Wow - what a trip. I have never experienced a trip with such extremes as I have on this one. Mother Nature truly showed her Yin and Yang sides on this trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first inclination of things to come was as we were driving up Highway 53, it started to snow. And not just a flake here and there. It was actually snowing and sticking to the roads. Thankfully, it did not last long and soon disappeared. I don&#39;t mind snow but when you pack for somewhat warmer temps, I would have rather not seen it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we made our way to the boat launch, the skies started to clear and the winds started to subside. And by the time we made it to our campsite on one of the many beautiful islands, it was very calm and peaceful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur=&quot;try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}&quot; href=&quot;http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/ShQTmxOiMlI/AAAAAAAAAKE/cRjDWbhredA/s1600-h/Shore.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 198px;&quot; src=&quot;http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/ShQTmxOiMlI/AAAAAAAAAKE/cRjDWbhredA/s400/Shore.JPG&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337913015111135826&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;After we had set up camp and got the fire burning I noticed these two loons making their way towards our camp. The camera decided to focus on the tree in the foreground so they are a little blurry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur=&quot;try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}&quot; href=&quot;http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/ShQUHA-V3KI/AAAAAAAAAKM/FgqHXz2Cgfs/s1600-h/LoonPair.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 241px;&quot; src=&quot;http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/ShQUHA-V3KI/AAAAAAAAAKM/FgqHXz2Cgfs/s320/LoonPair.jpg&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337913569093999778&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I couldn&#39;t have asked for a more fitting way to end the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But Mother Nature&#39;s mood changed. We woke up to a cold, driving rain that nobody wanted to leave the comfort of their tent to venture out in to go fishing. So we hunkered down thinking that this would pass as the snow had done the previous day. Little did we know that this was here to stay. And not only stay but get much worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The temperature that night got down to 25 and we had traces of snow on the ground in the morning. Whitecaps filled the lake as the wind continued to howl and we knew that we could either stay in our tents all day hoping this would pass or we could break camp and head for warmer accommodations. We chose the latter and broke camp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taking down a tent in a driving wind is quite comical. All we could do was laugh at the comings-and-goings of poles and tarps and ropes and the like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After quite some time of getting everything packed away back on the boats, we slowly made our way to the nearest lodge, which we hoped would have a cabin available to rent for the night. Considering the weather, we felt our chances were good. And they were.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night we hunkered around the fireplace, played cards and had some more laughs at our misadventures of the day. We began planning next year&#39;s trip. I think I&#39;ll bring an extra pair of long underwear on that one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even with all of our trials and tribulations I loved every minute of it and can only dream about what we&#39;ll encounter next year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur=&quot;try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}&quot; href=&quot;http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/ShQnrINxCNI/AAAAAAAAAKk/wo5Wh7lV3wQ/s1600-h/FireRing.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 301px;&quot; src=&quot;http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/ShQnrINxCNI/AAAAAAAAAKk/wo5Wh7lV3wQ/s400/FireRing.jpg&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337935080233961682&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;</description><link>http://spiritofthenorthwoods.blogspot.com/2009/05/back-from-gods-country.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (NorthWoodsGuy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/ShQR-twzMjI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/KaPQnro6Qb8/s72-c/Driving+Snow.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>4</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8220036723951245596.post-2536574748175053321</guid><pubDate>Mon, 11 May 2009 15:28:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-05-13T12:42:08.423-05:00</atom:updated><title>Off to God&#39;s Country</title><description>&lt;a onblur=&quot;try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}&quot; href=&quot;http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SghHgW0HQCI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fTxvQ0qaW9c/s1600-h/voyTrip.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;margin: 0pt 10px 0px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 243px;&quot; src=&quot;http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SghHgW0HQCI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fTxvQ0qaW9c/s320/voyTrip.JPG&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334592379825897506&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Today I am off on a spring fishing trip to Voyageurs National Park, specifically &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.kabetogama.com/&quot;&gt;Lake Kabetogama&lt;/a&gt;. The ice has just left the lake in the past couple of weeks and is the perfect time to fish for walleye, or so I&#39;m told. I hope to have a shore lunch or two in my future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&#39;ve done this trip a few time in the past but it has always been in the fall, never in the spring, so this will be a new experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&#39;ve always had good intentions of keeping a journal and sharing my experiences of these trips here with you but one thing leads to another and before I know it I&#39;m back at my desk wondering why I didn&#39;t put my experiences down on paper. You see, my memory isn&#39;t what it was (if you ask my wife, she&#39;d say I never had one) and when I sit down to write about said experiences I can never remember all of the small details. So in frustration, I never write about them at all. I think I need a voice recorder. But the thought of bringing anything &#39;technological&#39; into the woods, does not appeal to me in the least. I guess I&#39;m in a catch-22, damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don&#39;t situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, where did I put my GPS?</description><link>http://spiritofthenorthwoods.blogspot.com/2009/05/off-to-gods-country.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (NorthWoodsGuy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SghHgW0HQCI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fTxvQ0qaW9c/s72-c/voyTrip.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>4</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8220036723951245596.post-6766608468022253920</guid><pubDate>Mon, 11 May 2009 14:12:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-05-12T07:25:14.887-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">canoe trip</category><title>Time for a Voyage - Part 2</title><description>&lt;a onblur=&quot;try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}&quot; href=&quot;http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/Sgg2YPksCzI/AAAAAAAAAJc/MNnGgauRXLc/s1600-h/canoeRoute.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334573548745526066&quot; style=&quot;FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 293px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 282px&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/Sgg2YPksCzI/AAAAAAAAAJc/MNnGgauRXLc/s320/canoeRoute.jpg&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;In preparation for my upcoming solo canoe trip in June, I have been pouring over my maps. I&#39;m not sure what gets my blood pumping more - the actual planning of the trip or the trip itself. I look at each bend of the river on the map wondering what could be waiting for me there; a log jam, a mink running the bank, or a rapid requiring nothing but 100% of my attention. I think of the places where I&#39;ll be camping and the fires I will build and conferring with about the days events and what lays ahead of me for the following day. I think of the ever-changing smells that permeate the air providing me with an almost overwhelming sense of peace. I think of the mist that will be hovering over the river in the early morning hours providing a feeling of an entirely different world. But mostly, I think of being right with the world once again.</description><link>http://spiritofthenorthwoods.blogspot.com/2009/05/time-for-voyage-part-2.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (NorthWoodsGuy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/Sgg2YPksCzI/AAAAAAAAAJc/MNnGgauRXLc/s72-c/canoeRoute.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8220036723951245596.post-3102689973869528895</guid><pubDate>Fri, 08 May 2009 14:44:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-05-08T10:02:13.479-05:00</atom:updated><title>Off the Grid</title><description>I found this character while perusing the interweb and enjoyed this guy so much I thought I would share him here with you. This just goes to prove that with the right attitude and outlook on life, a person really doesn&#39;t need much to enjoy life sans materialism. I actually envy Keith.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width=&quot;445&quot; height=&quot;364&quot;&gt;&lt;param name=&quot;movie&quot; value=&quot;http://www.youtube.com/v/qRpMAt7Rbv8&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x3a3a3a&amp;amp;color2=0x999999&amp;amp;border=1&quot;&gt;&lt;param name=&quot;allowFullScreen&quot; value=&quot;true&quot;&gt;&lt;param name=&quot;allowscriptaccess&quot; value=&quot;always&quot;&gt;&lt;embed src=&quot;http://www.youtube.com/v/qRpMAt7Rbv8&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x3a3a3a&amp;amp;color2=0x999999&amp;amp;border=1&quot; type=&quot;application/x-shockwave-flash&quot; allowscriptaccess=&quot;always&quot; allowfullscreen=&quot;true&quot; width=&quot;445&quot; height=&quot;364&quot;&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&#39;ve posted this quote from Thoreau in a &lt;a href=&quot;http://spiritofthenorthwoods.blogspot.com/2007/04/pine-box.html&quot;&gt;prior entry&lt;/a&gt; but I think it fit&#39;s this video perfectly so I am sharing it again:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: rgb(0, 0, 153);&quot;&gt;&quot;I used to see a large box by the railroad, six feet long by three wide, in which the laborers locked up their tools at night; and it suggested to me that every man who was hard pushed might get such a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: rgb(0, 0, 153);&quot;&gt;one for a dollar, and, having bored a few auger holes in it, to admit the air at least, get into it when it rained and at night, and hook down the lid, and so have freedom in his love, and in his soul be free.&quot;&lt;/span&gt;</description><link>http://spiritofthenorthwoods.blogspot.com/2009/05/off-grid.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (NorthWoodsGuy)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8220036723951245596.post-2066485799320974469</guid><pubDate>Wed, 15 Apr 2009 13:30:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-04-15T10:43:17.333-05:00</atom:updated><title>Twitter, MySpace, FaceBook...</title><description>...and this Blog. Add to this my 9-to-5 Information Technology (IT) job and it seems like I cannot escape from this technological insanity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My family wanted me to get a MySpace page so we could keep in touch. &quot;Why not just call each other?&quot;, you ask. Got me. So I did and it started taking a big chunk of my &quot;after work&quot; time. Soon my friends all started signing up for FaceBook. So I thought, &quot;Ok, I&#39;ll play along.&quot; And now the latest (and not so greatest) is this thing called Twitter. For those of you that don&#39;t know what Twitter is, count your blessings. It&#39;s simply another &quot;social networking&quot; gizmo that you are supposed to update with 140 characters or less of what you are currently doing. ie &quot;I&#39;m going shopping right now&quot;. I know, who cares. I certainly don&#39;t. Hence, I drew the line. Delete.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what has been suffering most? My time spent in Nature and sharing my experiences here with you. Nature is what keeps me going and I&#39;ve been completely ignoring her and my Soul has taken the brunt of this neglect. My life was turning into a bunch of ones and zeros.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to see the sun rise and set on the same day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to smell the forest right after a cleansing rain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to feel the mud between my toes as I walk along a river bank.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to hear the cry of loon on a remote lake as I paddle along its rocky shore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to dance with the trees as they sway back and forth welcoming me into their kingdom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to feel alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to unplug.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&#39;ll leave you with this thought from Karl Pruter:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: rgb(0, 0, 153);&quot;&gt;&quot;The Industrial Revolution brought with it gadgets to use up our time and to fill our world with sounds that not only drown out the voice of God, but also destroy the silence which is the proper environment for the nurturing of Man&#39;s soul. Think about your own life. Take just one day of the week. If your home is typical, you get up in the morning feeling harried and hurried. You must wash, dress, have breakfast, and, if you have children, get them ready for school. Somehow, in all this hurry and confusion, you turn on the radio or television to get the morning news. There doesn&#39;t seem to be enough confusion and chaos in the home, so you let in the world&#39;s share of confusion and chaos to add to that already existing, and in addition, raise the noise level. We seem, in our time, to be afraid of silence. For, if we get into our cars to go to work, we are apt to immediately turn on the radio instead of enjoying a time of relative quiet.&quot;&lt;/span&gt;</description><link>http://spiritofthenorthwoods.blogspot.com/2009/04/twitter-myspace-facebook.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (NorthWoodsGuy)</author><thr:total>8</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8220036723951245596.post-229104478786735764</guid><pubDate>Mon, 23 Feb 2009 00:52:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-05-11T11:00:08.127-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">canoe trip</category><title>Time for a Voyage</title><description>&lt;a onblur=&quot;try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}&quot; href=&quot;http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SaIAk3uroJI/AAAAAAAAAJU/ivHoHNyaVFE/s1600-h/river.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;margin: 0pt 5px 5px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;&quot; src=&quot;http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SaIAk3uroJI/AAAAAAAAAJU/ivHoHNyaVFE/s320/river.jpg&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305803944430903442&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Ever since I was a young boy, I have always wanted to canoe down the entire length of Old Man River - the Mighty Mississippi. I would begin at his origin in &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.dnr.state.mn.us/state_parks/itasca/index.html&quot;&gt;Itasca State Park&lt;/a&gt; here in Minnesota and canoe the meandering path he chose to cut so long ago down to the Gulf of Mexico. This is still just a dream - an even more far fetched dream given my current responsibilities. But I refuse to let the dream go. Everyone needs that &lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;one thing&lt;/span&gt; to dream about and this is mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have even dreamed about canoeing just the segment from Itasca to the Twin Cities. But again with my current situation and responsibilities even this segment seems beyond my grasp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I&#39;ve been researching other smaller rivers around here and started to put some plans down on paper. There is one particular river nearby that I&#39;ve canoed during short day adventures and I liked the solitude and stillness it provided enough that I think it would prove quite enjoyable to make an extended trip out of it. It would definitely be a trip to wet my palette.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pulled out my maps (which got the blood pumping just imagining the trip as I followed the twisting path) and found a stretch that would make a good multi-day trip - long enough to take me away from the insensate babble of the talking heads on TV and the everyday-breaking-news concerning this economy. As Emerson stated, &quot;&lt;span style=&quot;color: rgb(0, 0, 153);&quot;&gt;But I go with my friend to the shore of our little river, and with one stroke of the paddle I leave the village politics and personalities, yes, and the world of villages and personalities behind, and pass into a delicate realm of sunset and moonlight, too bright almost for spotted man to enter without novitiate and probation.&lt;/span&gt;&quot; But I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is my plan:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-weight: bold;&quot;&gt;Total Trip&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-weight: bold;&quot;&gt;Start MM(Mile Marker)&lt;/span&gt; 91.7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-weight: bold;&quot;&gt;End MM&lt;/span&gt;               37.2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-weight: bold;&quot;&gt;Total Distance &lt;/span&gt;      54.5 miles&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-weight: bold;&quot;&gt;3 Day Avg&lt;/span&gt;             18.17 miles&lt;br /&gt;           &lt;br /&gt;I would plan the three day trip as follows, leaving the last day as my lightest travel day so it would provide me some leeway to make up some miles if needed:     &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-weight: bold;&quot;&gt;Day1&lt;/span&gt; - 22.9 miles (2.39 to 2.86 mph avg)         &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-weight: bold;&quot;&gt;Day2&lt;/span&gt; - 21.8 miles (2.18 to 2.73 mph avg)         &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-weight: bold;&quot;&gt;Day3&lt;/span&gt; - 9.8 miles (.98 to 1.23 mph avg)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don&#39;t ask me why I got so detailed as to calculate the mph avg - it was just something I figured and thought I&#39;d share it here as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I just need the snow and ice to bid their final farewell for the year. Oh well, more time to dream!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you would like to read about other people&#39;s interesting adventures on canoeing Old Man River, check out these sites:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.caleuche.com/River/101Days.htm&quot;&gt;101 Days&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.bucktrack.com/Canoeing_Down_the_Mississippi.html&quot;&gt;Mississippi River by Canoe&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.sourcetosea.net/Blog/files/category-8.html&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Source to Sea&lt;/a&gt;</description><link>http://spiritofthenorthwoods.blogspot.com/2009/02/time-for-voyage.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (NorthWoodsGuy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SaIAk3uroJI/AAAAAAAAAJU/ivHoHNyaVFE/s72-c/river.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>6</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8220036723951245596.post-2972777716211384044</guid><pubDate>Mon, 02 Feb 2009 21:16:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-02-02T15:47:13.769-06:00</atom:updated><title>Waterwalker</title><description>I came across this film &quot;Waterwalker&quot; by Bill Mason while recently wandering the web. I really enjoyed it and thought you might too. It&#39;s a little dated as far as video quality but I feel it is still a beautiful and relevant film.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The musings of Bill, along with the music, are wonderful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you&#39;ve had a stressful day, there isn&#39;t a better prescription that I could prescribe than telling you to watch this film.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: rgb(0, 0, 102);&quot;&gt;&quot;This feature-length documentary follows naturalist Bill Mason on his journey by canoe into the Ontario wilderness. The filmmaker and artist begins on Lake Superior, then explores winding and sometimes tortuous river waters to the meadowlands of the river&#39;s source. Along the way, Mason paints scenes that capture his attention and muses about his love of the canoe, his artwork and his own sense of the land. Mason also uses the film as a commentary on the link between God and nature and the vast array of beautiful canvases God created for him to paint. Features breathtaking visuals and exciting whitewater footage, with a musical score by Bruce Cockburn.&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed src=&quot;http://media1.nfb.ca/medias/flash/ONFflvplayer-gama.swf&quot; allowscriptaccess=&quot;always&quot; allowfullscreen=&quot;true&quot; autostart=&quot;false&quot; flashvars=&quot;mID=IDOBJ1191&amp;amp;image=http://media1.nfb.ca/medias/nfb_tube/thumbs_large/2009/waterwalker-tv-big.jpg&amp;amp;width=516&amp;amp;height=337&amp;amp;autostart=false&amp;amp;showWarningMessages=false&amp;amp;streamNotFoundDelay=15&amp;amp;lang=en&amp;amp;getPlaylistOnEnd=true&amp;amp;embeddedMode=true&quot; width=&quot;450&quot; height=&quot;337&quot;&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;</description><link>http://spiritofthenorthwoods.blogspot.com/2009/02/waterwalker.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (NorthWoodsGuy)</author><thr:total>4</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8220036723951245596.post-6175508688238833163</guid><pubDate>Mon, 19 Jan 2009 14:41:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-05-11T11:12:09.229-05:00</atom:updated><title>Right of Passage</title><description>&lt;a onblur=&quot;try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}&quot; href=&quot;http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SXSSbXR4rrI/AAAAAAAAAJE/guV17KBdgCc/s1600-h/Kids+Ice+fishing.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;margin: 0pt 5px 0px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 198px;&quot; src=&quot;http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SXSSbXR4rrI/AAAAAAAAAJE/guV17KBdgCc/s200/Kids+Ice+fishing.JPG&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293016460870332082&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Here in the Minnesota Northwoods, Old Man Winter loosened his firm grip slightly over these past few days so I decided to introduce two of my children to ice fishing - a right of passage that I fondly remember from my childhood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have always felt something magical about being hunkered down in my little ice shack while the wind and cold whirled outside while at the same time being able to view an underwater world unknown by most people. I was hoping to pass some of this magic on to my children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We fished for maybe an hour or so and caught a couple Bluegill and Perch. It&#39;s always fun for me to watch the kids as they inspect the fins, eyes, gills and scales of the fish up close and personal. It was especially fun watching them release the fish back down the hole and then watching them stick their heads nearly all of the way in the hole so they could see the fish descend back down into the depths below.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope they captured a little of the magic that I did as a child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is an excerpt from Thoreau concerning his observations of ice fishing:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: rgb(0, 0, 153);&quot;&gt;&quot;Early in the morning, while all things are crisp with frost, men come with fishing-reels and slender lunch, and let down their fine lines through the snowy field to take pickerel and perch; wild men, who instinctively follow other fashions and trust other authorities than their townsmen, and by their goings and comings stitch towns together in parts where else they would be ripped.&quot;&lt;/span&gt;</description><link>http://spiritofthenorthwoods.blogspot.com/2009/01/right-of-passage.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (NorthWoodsGuy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SXSSbXR4rrI/AAAAAAAAAJE/guV17KBdgCc/s72-c/Kids+Ice+fishing.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8220036723951245596.post-3728552271981810784</guid><pubDate>Wed, 31 Dec 2008 15:51:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-01-15T10:55:36.649-06:00</atom:updated><title>New Mode of Transportation</title><description>Another year in the books. Tomorrow it will be 2009....2009.....man, where does the time go. I know everyone says it every year but it just amazes me just the same because as I grow older the years seem to be flying by faster and faster. But I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Santa brought me something this year that I have wanted for quite some time but have always put off purchasing. &quot;I&#39;ll get those next year&quot;, was my typical thought. Well, next year is this year and I had a pair of snowshoes and trekking poles waiting for me on Christmas morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Snowshoes have always held a special place in my heart and mind. When I think of snowshoes I think of mountain men trudging through snow which would be impassable without them. I think of a small cabin nestled in a valley surrounded by peaks so high they leave the cabin in the cast of their shadow for most of the day. &lt;a onblur=&quot;try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}&quot; href=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SVuVVk128WI/AAAAAAAAAI0/TklXGFJvQI0/s1600-h/black_capped_chickadee.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;margin: 10pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 160px; height: 115px;&quot; src=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SVuVVk128WI/AAAAAAAAAI0/TklXGFJvQI0/s320/black_capped_chickadee.jpg&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285982785548775778&quot; border=&quot;1&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Attached on the cabin, just to the right of the front door, would be a pair of trusted snowshoes hanging in an x-configuration. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I think of snowshoes I think of quiet times when all you hear is the comforting chirp of the chickadee as it flits from tree to tree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I think of snowshoes I think of times of peace and tranquility.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have these thoughts because in my minds-eye I envision snowshoes taking me to places where few people have traveled and left their mark. They also take me back to a simpler time. Not easier, not by a long shot, but I have to imagine a simpler and more gratifying time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have received quite a bit of snow here in the north country so I will hopefully be able to venture out soon and post some of my snowshoe experiences and pictures here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy New Year!</description><link>http://spiritofthenorthwoods.blogspot.com/2008/12/new-mode-of-transportation.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (NorthWoodsGuy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SVuVVk128WI/AAAAAAAAAI0/TklXGFJvQI0/s72-c/black_capped_chickadee.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8220036723951245596.post-7056282164411054100</guid><pubDate>Wed, 17 Dec 2008 21:16:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-17T15:31:44.103-06:00</atom:updated><title>Time to Cut Back</title><description>When I had originally created the website www.SpiritOfTheNorthwoods.com, I had grand intentions. And then I found blogging and now that&#39;s all www.SpiritOfTheNorthwoods.com is - a front-end, or gateway, to my blog http://spiritofthenorthwoods.blogspot.com/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, as I&#39;ve been told a time or two, why pay for the cow when you can get the milk for free? Or in my case why pay for a Web Hosting service when all I&#39;m using it for is to point to the free blog I have. Well, beginning Jan 11, 2009, I won&#39;t be. I am letting the web hosting service lapse so www.SpiritOfTheNorthwoods.com will be no more but this blog - http://spiritofthenorthwoods.blogspot.com/ - will still exist. So &lt;a href=&quot;http://wistraildog.blogspot.com/&quot;&gt;Craigers&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href=&quot;http://bigcatadventures.blogspot.com/&quot;&gt;Big Cat&lt;/a&gt;, if you followed my blog via the www.SpiritOfTheNorthwoods.com link, you&#39;ll have to update your shortcut.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I am keeping the name registered just because I dig it. And who knows, maybe I&#39;ll be struck by lightning and come up with an awesome idea for the site and resurrect it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Craigers - hope the surgery went well.</description><link>http://spiritofthenorthwoods.blogspot.com/2008/12/time-to-cut-back.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (NorthWoodsGuy)</author><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8220036723951245596.post-8076070572226458433</guid><pubDate>Thu, 27 Nov 2008 16:33:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-11-27T10:35:08.753-06:00</atom:updated><title>HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!</title><description>&lt;a onblur=&quot;try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}&quot; href=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SS7MMvH_exI/AAAAAAAAAIk/OdWhhseznWk/s1600-h/HappyThanksgiving.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 231px; height: 320px;&quot; src=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SS7MMvH_exI/AAAAAAAAAIk/OdWhhseznWk/s320/HappyThanksgiving.jpg&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot;id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273376732877912850&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;</description><link>http://spiritofthenorthwoods.blogspot.com/2008/11/happy-thanksgiving.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (NorthWoodsGuy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SS7MMvH_exI/AAAAAAAAAIk/OdWhhseznWk/s72-c/HappyThanksgiving.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8220036723951245596.post-8918036353888674627</guid><pubDate>Sat, 18 Oct 2008 13:16:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-10-18T09:05:25.618-05:00</atom:updated><title>Busy Bees</title><description>&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur=&quot;try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}&quot; href=&quot;http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SPnicW8HDSI/AAAAAAAAAIA/jJF0mJsTXIY/s1600-h/Reflections+from+the+North+Country.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;&quot; src=&quot;http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SPnicW8HDSI/AAAAAAAAAIA/jJF0mJsTXIY/s200/Reflections+from+the+North+Country.jpg&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258483016753679650&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;After a long, stressful workweek, I was feeling a bit anxious last night with nothing to do and nowhere to go so I started looking over my books on my bookshelf and decided to browse Sigurd Olson&#39;s &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0816629935/spiofthenorwo-20&quot; target=&quot;_blank&quot;&gt;&quot;Reflections from the North Country&quot;&lt;/a&gt; (my favorite Minnesota Northwoods writer). I opened to page 27 and read:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: rgb(0, 0, 153);&quot;&gt;&quot;Our lives seem governed by speed, tension, and hurry. We move so fast and are caught so completely in a web of confusion there is seldom time to think. Our cities are veritable beehives dominated by the sounds of traffic and industry. Even at the top of the highest buildings, one is conscious of the hive&#39;s human busyness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: rgb(0, 0, 153);&quot;&gt;[...]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: rgb(0, 0, 153);&quot;&gt;In the wilderness there is never this sense of having to move, never the feeling of boredom if nothing dramatic happens. Time moves slowly, as it should, for it is a part of beauty that cannot be hurried if it is to be understood. Without this easy flowing, life can become empty and hectic.&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Synchronicity - it&#39;s am amazing thing. Here I was still buzzing with all of the work tasks I had completed earlier in the day and thinking about the ones I hadn&#39;t, leaving me with a feeling like I should be doing something - anything - as long as I wasn&#39;t idle. When lo and behold, Sigurd shows me the error of my ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I made myself a cup of tea, sat down in my favorite chair and let Sigurd continue to work his magic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was at peace once again.</description><link>http://spiritofthenorthwoods.blogspot.com/2008/10/time.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (NorthWoodsGuy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SPnicW8HDSI/AAAAAAAAAIA/jJF0mJsTXIY/s72-c/Reflections+from+the+North+Country.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>9</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8220036723951245596.post-4368228435155357364</guid><pubDate>Mon, 06 Oct 2008 16:04:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-10-06T12:51:27.971-05:00</atom:updated><title>To Blog Just to Blog</title><description>&lt;br/&gt;&lt;a onblur=&quot;try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}&quot; href=&quot;http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SOo8ARxP9UI/AAAAAAAAAH4/a5sOik1H5P8/s1600-h/Typewriter.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;&quot; src=&quot;http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SOo8ARxP9UI/AAAAAAAAAH4/a5sOik1H5P8/s200/Typewriter.JPG&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot;id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254077890748740930&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;In my Oct 1st entry, I stated that I was going to challenge myself to log an entry for everyday in October. Well, I&#39;ve quickly realized that instead of logging entries that really have a special meaning to me and come from my own personal experiences, I&#39;m logging entries just to check that day off my list. Now don&#39;t get me wrong - what I have logged from Emerson and others are excerpts that mean a great deal to me and I think they convey what the Spirit of the Northwoods is all about but I still get the feeling that I&#39;m just doing it to say it&#39;s done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So from now on I will only blog when the spirit moves me. If that means blogging once-a-month than so be it. At least I will feel like the entry is coming more from within me than just from a copy-and-paste.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So if you are one of the few that read this blog, don&#39;t think I&#39;m blowing this blog off if you don&#39;t see an entry for a while. I&#39;m simply waiting for my muse to light that fire.</description><link>http://spiritofthenorthwoods.blogspot.com/2008/10/to-blog-just-to-blog.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (NorthWoodsGuy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SOo8ARxP9UI/AAAAAAAAAH4/a5sOik1H5P8/s72-c/Typewriter.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8220036723951245596.post-5732403150174870286</guid><pubDate>Mon, 06 Oct 2008 00:10:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-10-05T19:21:54.389-05:00</atom:updated><title>On Nature&#39;s Beauty</title><description>&lt;br /&gt; &lt;a onblur=&quot;try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}&quot; href=&quot;http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SOlZls9HcSI/AAAAAAAAAHw/SJmdSB-1H5A/s1600-h/Waters+Edge.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;float:left; margin:0 10px 0px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;&quot; src=&quot;http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SOlZls9HcSI/AAAAAAAAAHw/SJmdSB-1H5A/s200/Waters+Edge.JPG&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot;id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253828944561926434&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: rgb(0, 0, 153);&quot;&gt;To the attentive eye, each moment of the year has its own beauty, and in the same field, it beholds, every hour, a picture which was never seen before, and which shall never be seen again. The heavens change every moment, and reflect their glory or gloom on the plains beneath. The state of the crop in the surrounding farms alters the expression of the earth from week to week. The succession of native plants in the pastures and road-sides, which make the silent clock by which time tells the summer hours, will make even the divisions of the day sensible to a keen observer. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: rgb(0, 0, 153);&quot;&gt;- Emerson&lt;/span&gt;</description><link>http://spiritofthenorthwoods.blogspot.com/2008/10/on-natures-beauty.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (NorthWoodsGuy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SOlZls9HcSI/AAAAAAAAAHw/SJmdSB-1H5A/s72-c/Waters+Edge.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8220036723951245596.post-1290028146656797244</guid><pubDate>Sat, 04 Oct 2008 18:56:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-10-05T08:16:52.634-05:00</atom:updated><title>The Men That Don&#39;t Fit In</title><description>&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:130%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-weight: bold;&quot;&gt;The Men That Don&#39;t Fit In &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;- Robert Service&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There&#39;s a race of men that don&#39;t fit in,&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;A race that can&#39;t stay still;&lt;br /&gt;So they break the hearts of kith and kin,&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;And they roam the world at will.&lt;br /&gt;They range the field and they rove the flood,&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;And they climb the mountain&#39;s crest;&lt;br /&gt;Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood,&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;And they don&#39;t know how to rest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If they just went straight they might go far;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;They are strong and brave and true;&lt;br /&gt;But they&#39;re always tired of the things that are,&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;And they want the strange and new.&lt;br /&gt;They say: &quot;Could I find my proper groove,&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;What a deep mark I would make!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;So they chop and change, and each fresh move&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Is only a fresh mistake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And each forgets, as he strips and runs&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;With a brilliant, fitful pace,&lt;br /&gt;It&#39;s the steady, quiet, plodding ones&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Who win in the lifelong race.&lt;br /&gt;And each forgets that his youth has fled,&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Forgets that his prime is past,&lt;br /&gt;Till he stands one day, with a hope that&#39;s dead,&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;In the glare of the truth at last.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He has failed, he has failed; he has missed his chance;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He has just done things by half.&lt;br /&gt;Life&#39;s been a jolly good joke on him,&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;And now is the time to laugh.&lt;br /&gt;Ha, ha! He is one of the Legion Lost;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He was never meant to win;&lt;br /&gt;He&#39;s a rolling stone, and it&#39;s bred in the bone;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He&#39;s a man who won&#39;t fit in.</description><link>http://spiritofthenorthwoods.blogspot.com/2008/10/men-that-dont-fit-in.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (NorthWoodsGuy)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8220036723951245596.post-2816475437281038785</guid><pubDate>Fri, 03 Oct 2008 20:23:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-10-03T15:26:09.257-05:00</atom:updated><title>Never Fail You</title><description>&lt;a onblur=&quot;try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}&quot; href=&quot;http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SOZ_tx_tFHI/AAAAAAAAAHo/BqDiPhJ0t1g/s1600-h/nature.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;&quot; src=&quot;http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SOZ_tx_tFHI/AAAAAAAAAHo/BqDiPhJ0t1g/s200/nature.jpg&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot;id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253026439865635954&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Short but sweet and to the point.</description><link>http://spiritofthenorthwoods.blogspot.com/2008/10/never-fail-you.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (NorthWoodsGuy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SOZ_tx_tFHI/AAAAAAAAAHo/BqDiPhJ0t1g/s72-c/nature.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8220036723951245596.post-474610826106773483</guid><pubDate>Fri, 03 Oct 2008 01:03:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-10-02T20:17:03.499-05:00</atom:updated><title>In the Woods</title><description>&lt;a onblur=&quot;try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}&quot; href=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SOVycQVtYnI/AAAAAAAAAHg/PURuWELEWpQ/s1600-h/TreeInAutumn.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;&quot; src=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SOVycQVtYnI/AAAAAAAAAHg/PURuWELEWpQ/s200/TreeInAutumn.jpg&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot;id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252730370145477234&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: rgb(0, 0, 153);&quot;&gt;In the woods, is perpetual youth. Within these plantations of God, a decorum and sanctity reign, a perennial festival is dressed, and the guest sees not how he should tire of them in a thousand years. In the woods, we return to reason and faith. There I feel that nothing can befall me in life,--no disgrace, no calamity (leaving me my eyes), which nature cannot repair. Standing on the bare ground,--my head bathed by the blithe air and uplifted into infinite space,--all mean egotism vanishes. I become a transparent eyeball. I am nothing. I see all. The currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part of particle of God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Emerson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</description><link>http://spiritofthenorthwoods.blogspot.com/2008/10/in-woods.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (NorthWoodsGuy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SOVycQVtYnI/AAAAAAAAAHg/PURuWELEWpQ/s72-c/TreeInAutumn.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8220036723951245596.post-3370452351325437427</guid><pubDate>Wed, 01 Oct 2008 19:41:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-10-01T15:52:32.289-05:00</atom:updated><title>A New Start</title><description>&lt;a onblur=&quot;try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}&quot; href=&quot;http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SOPgZVKYVnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/X5Imf5119is/s1600-h/ColoredRiverBank.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;&quot; src=&quot;http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SOPgZVKYVnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/X5Imf5119is/s200/ColoredRiverBank.JPG&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252288316226164338&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It&#39;s October 1st today. Can you believe it? I can&#39;t. The time of flip-flops and warm sunny walks along a soft, sandy shore are over. It is Autumn. And Autumn for me is a time for reflection. A time to think &quot;deep, and suck out all of the marrow of life.&quot; A time for change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, it is my challenge to myself to log an entry for every day in October. Thirty-one entries for thirty-one days. You may think that that isn&#39;t that big of an accomplishment. Well, if you look back at all of my entries, I rarely log more than one entry a month. So for me, this is going to be quite the challenge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On that note, I&#39;ll leave you with these words from Ralph Waldo Emerson, followed by a personal experience which reflects this passage:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: rgb(0, 0, 153);&quot;&gt;To speak truly, few adult persons can see nature. Most persons do not see the sun. At least they have a very superficial seeing. The sun illuminates only the eye of the man, but shines into the eye and the heart of the child. The lover of nature is he whose inward and outward senses are still truly adjusted to each other; who has retained the spirit of infancy even into the era of manhood. His intercourse with heaven and earth, becomes part of his daily food. In the presence of nature, a wild delight runs through the man, in spite of real sorrows. Nature says, -- he is my creature, and maugre all his impertinent griefs, he shall be glad with me. Not the sun or the summer alone, but every hour and season yields its tribute of delight; for every hour and change corresponds to and authorizes a different state of the mind, from breathless noon to grimmest midnight. Nature is a setting that fits equally well a comic or a mourning piece. In good health, the air is a cordial of incredible virtue. Crossing a bare common, in snow puddles, at twilight, under a clouded sky, without having in my thoughts any occurrence of special good fortune, I have enjoyed a perfect exhilaration. I am glad to the brink of fear. - Emerson&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How many of you have felt that &#39;perfect exhilaration&#39; and have been &#39;glad to the brink of fear&#39;? I have and it was the most amazing feeling I had ever felt in my entire life. As I was walking through the woods around dusk, with the waning light of day softly filtering through the thick woods, I felt enveloped within her spirit. I held out my hands as to walk hand-in-hand with her and could feel her presence all around me. We danced together down the well-beaten path. Me smiling all the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could say this happens to me every time I&#39;m in Nature, but I&#39;m sad to say it doesn&#39;t. In fact, there are maybe only two or three times that I can remember feeling this particular way. But the times it has happened will never be forgotten.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talk to you tomorrow.</description><link>http://spiritofthenorthwoods.blogspot.com/2008/10/new-start.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (NorthWoodsGuy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_M5JUgG42hA0/SOPgZVKYVnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/X5Imf5119is/s72-c/ColoredRiverBank.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item></channel></rss>