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| Foto: Astrid Nydahl |
Ur artikeln A real genius for staying at home:
As he walked his woods, or sat for hours almost motionless like the sphinx of college days upon a rock watching the birds, Thoreau defined his own position to the world not only with unflinching honesty, but with a glow of rapture at his heart. He seems to hug his own happiness. Nature had made it easy for him to pick up a living without effort. He was so skilled with his hands that by labouring forty days he could live at leisure for the rest of the year. We scarcely know whether to call him the last of an older race of men, or the first of one that is to come.
Virginia Woolf on Henry David Thoreau, published in the TLS of July 12, 1917.
(Texten publicerad i TLS på nytt, på Thoreaus 200-årsdag).
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Idag skulle min yngste son Tobbe ha fyllt 31 år. Snart har vi saknat honom i tre ofattbara år. Alltid positivt ihågkommen, älskade för alltid, också han en
skogs- och naturman. Om honom kunde man också använda orden "He was so skilled with his hands".
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| Tobbe och jag i Dudley Castle, West Midlands, 2008 |