“Home you have to weave it thread by thread.  What is life without brambly hollows and blackbirds? We imagined a life and then we set out to find it.  It is my twenty-fifth summer here.  I can’t ever imagine leaving this place.  Long summer days, cold nights, altitude, wind, the distant presence of the sea.  I’ve become what this valley has made me.  The ache of homesickness has become a distant memory.”

Beth Powning in her starkly eloquently written 1996 book Home: Chronicle of a North Country Life, explores the meaning of home after leaving a town that her family had inhabited for two hundred years.  The changing Connecticut landscape feels like an unfamiliar place comprised of strip malls and abandoned farms.   As Powning yearns for the wild country of her youth, she and her spouse move to a remote part of New Brunswick, Canada where her senses regularly inform her that the dead eyes of the coyotes are watching . . .

Ms. Powning writes a beautiful exploration of home as it relates to loving the land and how it shapes us, respecting the boundary of the frontier and the wildness that awaits there, and understanding the unquestionable, unyielding, reassuring force of nature . . .

Home reads like a meditation, or a poem, each paragraph an entity of its own.  Reading it, one has a sense of the enduring landscape, the timelessness of the place, the wisdom of the natural world . . .

The opening paragraph of this post is a composite of some poignant lines from the book, consolidated in such a way as to convey the theme of the text  . . .

Wishing you the experience of awe in unbounded nature . . .