This earth will grow cold,a star among starsand one of the smallest,a gilded mote on blue velvet—I mean this, our great earth.This earth will grow cold one day,not like a block of iceor a dead cloud evenbut like an empty walnut it will roll alongin pitch-black space . . .You must grieve for this right…
This hasn’t been a great month in New England for some of the traditional activities of summer. Not a lot of beach days, not a lot of dry hiking days, and not a lot of days when you’d want to raft up with other boats and soak up the sun, casually float in the lake…
Yesterday I dove deep into the Cape Cod section of John Seller’s Mapp of New England. Today I’m looking at another fascinating section – the border between “civilization” and the “wilderness’. I’ve written before about place names like World’s End Pond in Salem, New Hampshire. Nothing hammers that home like seeing a map from 1675…