For almost 20 years I have ranged the woods and fields near my home in east­ern Mass­a­chu­setts. Most of the plants and ani­mals have become famil­iar friends. By pay­ing close atten­tion to the weath­er, I can pre­dict almost to a day when the first red-wing black­bird will reap­pear along the brook, or when the first cin­na­mon fern will unfurl its fid­dle­heads near the pond. There is a plea­sure in the famil­iar, in the recur­ring pat­terns of the seasons.