Teale has taken his journal entries from nearly 20 years and turned them into a gratifying record of the seasonally changing landscape at Trail Wood. The eminent naturalist is, of course, ever alert during his meanderings, catching a lone spring peeper with his flashlight or pausing by day-lilies to watch a butterfly, probing for nectar, surprised by a crab spider. The format finds him pondering woodchuck mysteries in autumn, icy birches in winter, barn swallows strafing squirrels in summer. Or, at a single place, he can spot an explosion of quail in one season, shimmering heat and shrill insects in another. Frequently such observations, exactingly recorded, lead to further contemplation or to remembrances of savored readings--Aldo Leopold or Thomas Hardy or Mosses with a Hand Lens. Most assuredly, they contribute to feelings of continuity and unending wonder. And often enough wife Nellie participates, tallying glowworms along the trail or preparing cattail-pollen pancakes back home. Thoreau provided the initial inspiration (""it would be pleasant to write the history of one hillside for one year"") but Teale has made it flourish. A journal that both invites and defies duplication.