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…

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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…

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