A natural history of getting through the year

My family likes to tromp. Today, we went out on a few hours' long walk into the forest. My brother had hunted those woods before so he knew them mostly by dead reckoning in the half-light, and it was strange following him in that fashion. He didn't take a path but cut down ridges and deer trails and across creeks and old wagon roads and we ended up somehow where we started, although by no coherent, consistent route. We came across a two hundred year old ruin of a mill and I found some beautiful quartz crystals. The one is so perfect at first I thought it had a little clear water pooled in the center, and only saw it was solid rock when I tried to pour it out.


I want to say more about everything, but my brain feels pretty absent.