The smell and the sounds in the northern woods and the color of the changing seasons described, are the memories that remain rather than the story and the character sketch of the man who lived alone in a cabin in the heart of the forest.
I lived, I could see a confusion of rocks and reefs and islets, and a little of the sea, and a bluish mountain peak or so; behind the hut was the forest. A huge forest it was; and I was glad and grateful beyond measure for the scent of roots and leaves, the thick smell of the fir-sap, that is like the smell of marrow. Only the forest could bring all things to calm within me; my mind was strong and at ease. Day after day I tramped over the wooded hills with Æsop at my side, and asked no more than leave to keep on going there day after day, though most of the ground was covered still with snow and soft slush. I had no company but Æsop; now it is Cora, but at that time it was Æsop, my dog that I afterwards shot.
Often in the evening, when I came back to the hut after being out shooting all day, I could feel that kindly, homely feeling trickling through me from head to foot--a pleasant little inward shivering. And I would talk to Æsop about it, saying how comfortable we were. "Ther
One of my absolute favourites! Wonderfully written, dreamy story of a man who lives in a hut in the north. The changing of seasons, his love of a girl or two, his relationship with his dog and the nature with which he lives in harmony. Hunting and fishing to eat, his solitude makes it difficult for him in social settings. Stunningly beautiful, subtle but deep.