Poems from Cabin Country
Ed Zahniser is the younger son of the late Howard and Alice Zahniser. Howard was the primary author of and chief lobbyist for the 1964 National Wilderness Preservation System Act, a milestone in environmental legislation that today protects 111 million acres of wilderness on federal public domain lands. We told the story of Zahniser's collaboration with Paul Schaefer in that effort in Exploring Cabin Country, a feature for Adirondac magazine, and in this conversation with Ed.
A talented writer like his father and equally committed to wilderness preservation, Ed served for many years as senior writer and editor with the Publications Group of the National Park Service. Following his retirement in 2013, he was presented with the U.S. Department of the Interior Distinguished Service Award, the department's highest civilian honor.
Writing poetry for most of his life, Ed produced a new collection last year, Adirondack Cabin Country & Mountain Poems.
"The libretto is all Ed's," publisher John Ellsworth writes. "The song is the wind, the quiet, and the pause to listen in those times you've been mountain high."
Two of the poems that follow are from that collection. The last he wrote when we asked if he had any poems in his collection that spoke to winter in Cabin Country.
Mornings as a Child
Broken by brief rain
mug heat disappears
tail between its clouds
I remember mornings
as a child, late August
dressing by the fire
Oatmeal bubbles up
spurts in blackened pot
Mountains unmoved
since we went to bed
From the Zahniser family album, this is a rare photo of both the Zahniser and Schaefer clans together on the front porch of the Schaefer home on Edwards Hill Road in Bakers Mills. Ed and Monica Schaefer are missing, but here are the others: Front row: Mathias Zahniser, Evelyn Schaefer, Cub Schaefer, Esther Zahniser, Karen Zahniser, Mary Schaefer. Back row: Howard Zahniser, Alice Zahniser, Carolyn Schaefer, Paul Schaefer
Adirondack Augusts
Cut wood and carry water
mind empty of all effort
nearly stepped in the spring
I hum all day, no repetition
wind soughs thru fir balsams
night silence so thick I hear it
Can't keep things straight but
stars don't seem to mind
The Zahniser Cabin, named Matteskared to combine “Matthias,” “Esther,” “Karen,” and “Edward.”
Adirondack Non-Winter Poem
by a Devoted Summer Resident
I admit to never having witnessed winter
in the Adirondacks. My major excuses are
how we mid-southerly flatlanders don’t
know how to drive in deep snow—the
drive from our otherwise year-round
Maryland home is a solid 10-hour trek
even in favorable summer conditions.
Not to mention how our four-room cabin
has zero, zip, zilch insulation. And our sole
heat source is a stone fireplace, that might
well supply more unwanted heat to global
warming than to fuel our cabin’s comfort.
Besides which, I have zero levitation skills
nor any useful experience on snowshoes,
which, I am told are de riguer in winter—
not to mention skis, which have frankly
only ever managed to stir up fright in me,
especially now that I have artificial joints.
In both prose and poetry, Ed Zahniser writes about the natural world and the human experience, capturing the beauty and wonder of both in a way that is both profound and accessible. He conveys complex ideas in an unadorned way, never resorting to grandiose language or flowery imagery. He has a hawk-like eye for detail, which he paints in breathtaking landscapes. His ability to capture the essence of a place is remarkable. He writes about the joys and sorrows of life in a way that’s both honest and relatable. His words are a reminder that we are all connected by our shared experiences and emotions, and that even in the darkest of times, there is still beauty and hope to be found.
