Thursday, July 31, 2008


Assuming that we actually get our gear packed today, tonight Mary and I will head to "the farm" in Marquette County, where we'll meet up with her brother, Philip, and Philip's wife Susan. The four of us will roll out about 4:00 a.m. tomorrow to head north for a week of canoeing, fishing, and lounging about on Little Caribou Lake three and a half hours north of Thunder Bay, Ontario.

This will be our third year on Little Caribou. You might have read about our earlier adventures here and here, and you can find the essays also in my collection, The Idea of the Local.

I don't know whether or not I'll keep of journal of this year's adventure. A poet can never be certain that anything will come of a particular experience; and I know the worst one can do is to go in with expectations. So I go without hopes. I hope. A poet is also never certain he knows his own heart fully.

In the meantime, good people, thanks to the wonders of modern technology, you can expect the usual run of the daily "Lines" and the "Morning Drive Journal" entries (when these available).

Our good friends, the Schusters, will be handling cat chores for us, and minding the house, so thanks, Bob and Kathy.

See you on the other side....

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