Softly Heaves the Glassy Sea: Nature's Rhythms in an Era of Displacement

Twelve years old, the boy was thin, gangly. He had just been made a boy scout and he was standing guard, alone, over the encampment in a mixed deciduous and pine forest on a high shore above the Baltic Sea. He was standing beneath a tall pine, shivering in the wind-driven, sparse raindrops. His watch was between three and four in the morning, the darkest part of the night.