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Grounded: As the Seasons Pass

6 AM. Even the waters of Brant Lake slept; not a ripple disturbed the calm. The reflection of the massive birch, leaves touched by fall, cast a golden hue on the water. Soon, a breeze would arrive from its haven behind First Brother and the lake would become turbulent. Then it would be too blustery…

Be Careful of the Rut You Choose

In the days after Thanksgiving, lamenting summer’s end, I walked the desolate landscape at Brant Lake with my neighbor Alex. November is always a melancholy month, the sky gray, the winds ready to bring the first snowfall. As we crossed over the fields, we arrived at a dirt road with deep ruts in still soft…