““My eyes wandered over the wall of pines circling the water. A short walk through these woods can yield tales as ancient as the glaciers that carved its fertile floor and as new as each thin green thing that threads its way through it to be born above. But the ponds that lace this place tell a different story; their absence is their power. Every silver surface is an empty page waiting to ripple with the truth the wind writes about the wild world around it. I””
