Nature reveals itself as ruptured, as already profaned. To rest into a landscape is to be drawn into an adulterated history.
This spring, I didn't find any morels in the woods around my house. But I did find a lot of other things.
A pet peeve of mine is the pigeonholing of authors—especially the label "nature writers" inflicted on certain writers of immense spiritual power.
Spring comes slowly here. We are so deprived in winter—of color, light, smell, vitamin D. Lent is an almost unbearably slow wait.
In Last Child in the Woods, Richard Louv sounded an alarm over the loss of outdoor experiences for children. Not only children, however, need to be outdoors.
In this splendid book Belden Lane has made a double contribution—to the reordering of our perspectives on creation and to our understanding of the Reformed tradition as a contributor to this reordering.