|Front porch of cabin. My chair and coffee mug|
Running fast down the smooth trail, I began looking up at the trees and sky, feeling the wind blow through my hair. I loved the smell of the rotting wood of the Adirondack forest ravaged by the “Big Blowdown of 1950”; and on this day, at this time, I was flying; I was happy; I was a gale blowing through my beloved Adirondacks.
Then, I was lost.