Every day I wonder how many things I am dead wrong about. — True North - Jim Harrison

There have been mutterings that the whole food thing has gone too far in America, but I think not. Good food is a benign weapon against the sodden way we live.

The woods can be a bit strange. It takes a long time to feel you belong there and then you never again really belong in town. It's a choice made for you by your brain at a moment you don't notice.

When I was a stray dog in New York City in 1957, trying to eat on a buck a day while walking thousands of blocks in that human forest I thought was enchanted, not wanting to miss anything but missing everything because at nineteen dreams daily burst the brain, dismay the senses, the interior weeping drowning your steps, your mind an underground river running counter to your tentative life. “Our body is a molded river,” said wise Novalis. Bloody brain and heart, also mind and soul finally becoming a single river, flowing in a great circle, flowing from darkness to blessed darkness, still wondering above all else what kind of beast am I?