A couple of weeks ago, I headed to Concord, MA hoping to meet the ghost of Henry David Thoreau. I had expected to bump into him, as I often have, on my hike from his friend Emerson’s house in the center of town to the small plot of land on Walden Pond where Henry had built his cabin in 1845. Not finding him anywhere along the path, I continued past the pond, over the railroad tracks, and onto another series of trails to the Sudbury River, a place he often wandered to. Even brought a few thick slices of freshly baked Treacle (Molasses) Bread to share. I knew from studying Thoreau in college, and later in grad school, that he was fond of molasses. |