South of the Taiga

The taiga is one of the earth's biomes, though one with less of a reputation than tundra, rainforest, or desert. Ringing the subarctic climes of the northern hemisphere, it's a place where spruce are abundant and mosquitos are redundant for all the blackflies, at least for the six weeks of the year when the cold isn't bone-cracking. I don't live there, and neither should you.

But it's also a place of wilderness and emptiness, a vast potentiality the presence of which gives me comfort. If you want a good read about the taiga, I would suggest Farley Mowatt's People of the Deer. If you want a good read about anything else, stay put. I hope to fill these pages with observations on events micro and macro, recollections, revelations, and commentary. In other words, I'm not setting any rules, except that my prose should give you one good thing to share at the next idle moment in the elevator with that guy who is about to lapse into a reverie about his impetigo. Whether you've landed here by accident or via reference, your feedback is welcome. The DEET is in the tent.