My quest was to find elusive older-growth forests.
I was to photograph their grand trees, bound by mosses, lichens, ferns, and giant erratic granite boulders from the last ice age. Travelling on logging roads where potholes were deep enough to make one’s car axles disappear, I found vehicles broken down that weren’t so lucky and met double-trailer logging trucks going at speed, not waiting for me to move aside. I had help from knowledgeable foresters and friendly camp caretakers. I remembered tales told by an older trapper.
My family decided against a stay in the woods, finding it too remote and uncertain. But I felt lucky to have found wonderful camps at the end of a long dirt road. I had to hike for miles sometimes.
In those places, I found more than wilderness. I found stillness, and a deeper sense of connection to the land.
A Quiet Among Stone and Breath
The Maine Northwoods
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The Water's Quiet Breath
Where Hill and Water Share Breath
Where the Tree Holds the Sky
Where Stone Welcomes Root
Birch Entwined
When Hands Reach Together
Where the Forest Opens
Where Moss Anchors the Birch
Where Rock Remembers the Sky
When Water Hugs the Light
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