A View from this Wilderness began in January of 2015, a few months after my father passed away, as a way of reminding me of the permanence in life found in nature. That was nearly nine years ago. Six hundred blog posts ago.

Once every 150 blogs (about two years) it’s time to send out one of these for donations. This is kind of like NPR–the show will go on, but some unofficial “membership” keeps the wheels turning and defrays the cost of the blog, the website, upgrades, and this time, a permanent place online. That is, should anything happen to prevent me from renewing every Spring as I’m supposed to, the site will have “lifetime” status and nothing will expire for 99 years. This means this will very likely be the last time to call for donations.

With a weekly readership of close to 2000, it has been inspiring to watch the site grow as more people read these musings.

This is truly a situation where every little bit adds up. Think of it this way: Each year the blog posts total roughly 500 book pages.

Thank you for being part of A View, and shortly I’ll be back to our regularly scheduled post. And if you haven’t yet followed the blog, go to the bottom right corner and hit “follow,” enter your email, then go to your email and confirm. The only thing you’ll ever receive are blogs, about once a week.

Thank you for reading my weekly writings.

To Donate:

Venmo: @aviewfromthiswilderness

Mail: PO Box 70 Deltaville, VA 23043

Review:

“Nature,” Bob Kunzinger, writes, “keeps me in the moment.” Standing on the shores of the Atlantic Ocean and Rappahannock River, Kunzinger describes sights that lift the spirits and make hours and hearts glow. Like Robert Louis Stevenson who wandered the globe “for travel’s sake,” Kunzinger explains that “we all go looking for one thing and often find something else.” What readers discover are descriptions that delight and thoughts that surprise and awaken appreciation. His essays urge, almost impel, readers to kick the dust off their boots and minds. He makes them ache to be up and about and embracing our bruised but glorious world, to treasure it and its inhabitants anew.

—Sam Pickering author of The World Was My Garden, Too