Sunday, June 28
"The trail is barely visible, unless you know it’s there. I step off the dirt road and into the woods. The ground receives me with the familiar caress of home. I float down the trail—my feet intimately familiar with each little dip and rise, each stray root protruding from the ground. The trail is worn smooth. But on both sides the powder-light glacial soil is blanketed with a thin layer of moss and lichen, low-bush cranberry, and Labrador tea. For one week each spring, the color and perfume of wild roses fill these woods. There are paper birches and spruce, both black and white. But the predominant tree here is populus tremuloides—quaking aspen. ..."
New Yorker (Video)
YouTube: Echoes of Inhabitance - John Luther Adams, A Sonic Geography Of Alaska