NORTH OF COLORADO SPRINGS — A fine mist is sweeping through the ponderosa pines and quaking aspens on this late July morning just after sunrise. I sit outside under a pole barn, watching a pair of geese named Precious and Snow White pecking the ground inside their pen. Yesterday we fed them our watermelon rinds from the slices served us each morning by the proprietor of the bed-and-breakfast where we are staying. Both the geese, a Rhode Island Red named Ethel, and an aged Golden Retriever who goes by Scootie Patootie eagerly chowed down on the rinds. It was a revelation to know both fowl and an old dog would...
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Our nephew Connor came to visit the other day. He is growing like a well-watered bean sprout and about that skinny — with blond hair and blue eyes that likely will both turn darker as he grows older, in that transient manner of youngsters. Connor is eight-years-old, the son of my wife’s youngest brother. He is a serious soul, who ponders each question asked of him before answering. Sometimes you, meaning us adults, might not like the answers. Way I figure, don’t ask if you aren’t willing to receive an honest answer from Connor.
He came to our house armed with his Nintendo DS and a vinyl...
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We had to board our two dogs recently while on a week’s vacation. It is the first time we have done this. Previously, we only owned Rosie the Wonder Dog and always managed to find someone to host her or dog-sit at our house. Sam the Man, a poodle mix with doleful eyes and the sweetest disposition, joined the crew late last summer after being rescued by my Beautiful Mystery Companion. Rosie now has a big brother. A somewhat slow-witted but kind-hearted big brother, for sure, but she likes having him around most of the time. When he dawdles coming back inside from the backyard, she will run out and jump...
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ORANGE BEACH, ALABAMA — I’m being hauled out to sea on a fast boat called High Maintenance along with a dozen or so folks, our bottoms bouncing as we break through the waves once we past the bridge that separates the bay from the Gulf of Mexico. All of us hold on to the handrails or the cargo holds below, both to keep from being flung overboard and to avoid future chiropractic appointments. At least that’s my plan. I’m at least a generation older than just about everybody else on this vessel. There are a half-dozen teens, a couple ten-year-olds, a few young adults in their 20s, a couple...
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