The Deerslayer

My father at his home in central Tennessee. Being in the woods is his passion. He is the calmest person I know, a true Zen master in is own way.

This is the only image that I have made of him since I was a kid.

“There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore.
There is society where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the universe, and feel
What I can ne’er express, yet cannot all conceal”

—Childe Harold (Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage by Byron)

(The above poem can be found at the beginning of chapter one of The Deerslayer by James Fenimore Cooper)


~ by Phil Nesmith on August 5, 2008.

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