Fawn IslandU of Minnesota Press, 2001. febr. 13. - 192 oldal Fawn Island is a place where crows serve as alarm clocks, white-throated sparrows leave the tracks of their songs upon the evening hush, and chickadees help a woodsman learn to whistle. The island is also a jumping-off place for journeys large and small, earthly and spiritual-to nearby Mallard Island, Gull Island, or Bald Rock, by sea kayak into the wild recesses of sprawling Voyageurs National Park, or on a midnight paddle in which the paddler can reach the silent wilderness of the stars themselves. In his latest book, best-selling author Douglas Wood guides the reader on a deep journey into the heart of the North Woods. For Wood, Fawn Island is not merely a charming wilderness hideaway; it is the entry to realms of thought and meaning as well. From its pine-clad shores he probes for insights into the nature of neighborliness and independence, of community and solitude. Out of an ancient Ojibwe legend comes an exploration of personal loss and life after death. Wood questions the notion of being a “force of nature” and the concept of the passage of time in the context of seemingly eternal trees, lakes, rock ledges, and stars. From beneath the ascending trunks of pines comes an inquiry into the principles of optimism and, finally, a personal response to the eternal question: Is the universe a friendly place? Embedded in the text like roots of the island’s pines is Wood’s gentle, self-effacing humor and the author’s own original pen-and-ink drawings that superbly evoke the poetry and mystery of this “small bit of rock and tree,” this “lucky place” in the wilderness. |
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... wild recesses of sprawling Voyageurs National Park . For Wood , Fawn Island is not merely a charming wilderness hideaway . From its pine forests and rocky shores he contemplates the nature of neighborliness and independence , of ...
... wild spirit of the North to me , and the entire enterprise of life in a challenging universe . If the beach is a place for sunny afternoons , then the point itself is the place for evenings . Tonight I sit against the pine's old trunk ...
... wild and sprawling depths of Voyageurs National Park . From just down the shore come the short , raspy quacks of mother merganser , the red - headed " sawbill " of the North , herding her rambunctious brood on their morning promenade ...
... wild strawberry and bunchberry , twin- flower and nodding blue - bead lily . I spot a bright red wintergreen berry that has overwintered and pop it into my mouth , savoring the cool , wildwood taste . On the sunny ledges along the shore ...
... wild majesty of the North . He lends , I fancy , a certain old - time panache to the cabin . He is accorded occasional greetings as citizens enter and leave the prem- ises , and even receives the odd " ooh " and " ahh " from new ...