Collection: MushroomsMore Like This
No other plant looks, feels or tastes like a mushroom. They can bloom after a rainstorm and fill up a meadow in the woods that was empty the day before. They are a delight in the eye of the epicurean, but though tiny and fragile, strike terror in the hearts of non–woodsmen like me. Identified properly, they are a marvelous salad. Misidentified, they can mean sudden death. Such tiny, pretty forest dwellers, but with power over even a starving man. Such is a mushroom.
“I am… a mushroom; On whom the dew of heaven drops now and then.”
– John Ford
Collection: Stellar CenturionsMore Like This
“The very meaninglessness of life forces man to create his own meaning. Children, of course, begin life with an untarnished sense of wonder, a capacity to experience total joy at something as simple as the greenness of a leaf; but as they grow older, the awareness of death and decay begins to impinge on their consciousness and subtly erode their joie de vivre, their idealism—and their assumption of immortality. As a child matures, he sees death and pain everywhere about him, and begins to lose faith in the ultimate goodness of man. But, if he’s reasonably strong—and lucky—he can emerge from this twilight of the soul into a rebirth of life’s elan. Both because of and in spite of h
Collection: Easy RidersMore Like This
The tragedy of owning a motorcycle is that it sometimes must be “driven” instead of “ridden.” One must occasionally “drive” one’s bike to the store for a loaf of bread or to execute some other mundane activity unworthy of being a “motorcycle rider.” One is meant to ride, not drive, a bike—as it were a contentious beast forever being tamed. A bike should not be just a vehicle for the conveyance of bodies and materials. Riding should be transformative. A rider becomes one with the natural world being riven in twain by the wake of his bike’s passing. A rider becomes a living metaphor. A rid