Overview

"This book is for anyone who has found solace in the forests, meadows and wilderness. Johnson sees--and conveys to the reader--that the natural world is a mentor, curative and friend. Her writing encourages us to slow down, appreciate the earth's rich beauty, and, in the process, become found. Being lost isn't always a bad thing--indeed Cathy Johnson helps us see that it can be the adventure of a lifetime. In this book, the Missouri native sets out on a quest through the forests and trails of her region, searching not only for answers, but for life's bigger and broader questions--under stones, under bark and underwater. ""Being in possession of all the answers holds no appeal at all, but owning a good pocketful of unanswered questions is to me like bread to the starving,"" Johnson writes. An accomplished artist, Johnson's lovely ink drawings, add to her deeply personal writing. She mourns the careless destruction of wild lands and the deaths of her father and a friend, while also weaving in scientific discussion as she explores seasonal depression, the chaos theory, and more. Johnson sees small, faint game paths--rather than superhighways--as connecting the major events in all our lives. While it's easy to lose the path altogether as it traverses difficult terrain, getting lost is one of life's greatest adventures."

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9781635618365

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Reviews

This is a natural history that is a visual delight as well as a joy to read. For Cathy Johnson, as for all of us who find answers in the natural world, there is goodness, order and comfort out there, trailing downward in a soft snow, in the patterns made by an insect chewing on the leaf of a box elder, light shafting blue into a jay's wings. This book is an invitation to the best of all possible worlds by a keen, sentient observer. Ann H. Zwinger

This is a natural history that is a visual delight as well as a joy to read. For Cathy Johnson, as for all of us who find answers in the natural world, there is goodness, order and comfort out there, trailing downward in a soft snow, in the patterns made by an insect chewing on the leaf of a box elder, light shafting blue into a jay's wings. This book is an invitation to the best of all possible worlds by a keen, sentient observer. Ann H. Zwinger

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