This grand show is eternal. It is always sunrise somewhere; the dew is never dried all at once; a shower is forever falling; vapor is ever rising.
Eternal sunrise, eternal dawn and gloaming, on sea and continents and islands, each in its turn, as the round earth rolls.
— John Muir
In March 2020, during the early weeks of the pandemic, a graphic designer was living in an apartment in Amsterdam. Like tens of millions of us, digital creator Barbara Duriau was stuck at home. It seems so long ago, almost unreal now. The pandemic’s effects were stark and real. Most people knew at least...
Read more...
“Under certain circumstances, urgent circumstances, desperate circumstances, profanity provides a relief denied even to prayer.”
— Mark Twain
One summer day when I was about 5, I was playing in the backyard of our home at 27 Valley St. in Allenstown. N.H. With a toy hammer, I was pounding plastic pegs into a wooden case that had rectangles, circles, triangles, and squares cut into the surface. Unsurprisingly, given how I turned out, I was either trying to hammer a square-cut peg into a round hole or a round peg too large to fit into the square hole.
I...
Read more...
I bought a new tractor a couple of weeks ago, trading in Little Red for a shiny orange model that is sturdier and simpler to use. Like its predecessor, it is considered mid-sized, doesn’t have a cab, and is small enough to slip under the many trees here at Three Geese Farm in order to mow. The first time I used Orange Crush, as I have named her, I mowed about half the side pasture. I was pleased with the result and eager to return the following day to finish the job, on a Saturday morning.
Three Geese Farm comprises 57 acres, approximately half of which is bottomland. It has been a mighty...
Read more...
This tragic Fourth of July weekend will long linger in our collective memories. The Hill Country flooding was a horrific — and ongoing — nightmare. We grieve and pray for the families and friends of the victims.
Tragedy struck much closer to our Northeast Texas home on Sunday afternoon. Ignacio “Nacho” Aguillon, 53, and his son, Israel, who was 11, died in a head-on collision in Upshur County. An SUV driven by a 16-year-old crossed the center line on Farm-to-Market Road 852 near Lake Gilmer and struck Nacho’s 1997 Nissan pickup, according to the Texas Department of Public Safety. I learned...
Read more...
The ink is faded but still legible on an 8x10, black-and-white photograph hanging in the bedroom. The inscription reads “Kemo Sabay,” Clayton Moore, The Lone Ranger. The masked avenger crouches in a desert setting, a saguaro cactus in the background. Besides the requisite black mask, the Lone Ranger wears a bandana around his neck, a long-sleeved snap pearl western shirt, a fancy belt with silver studs, and a revolver strapped to his right hip. He looks ready for action. He also appears to be sweating profusely.
When I was a kid, Clayton Moore, the Lone Ranger, came to Pleasure Island, a short-lived...
Read more...
We are admittedly a bit late to the game, but we have started composting here at Three Geese Farm. With four hens laying eggs daily, and us frantically trying to devour as many of these delicious miracles of nature as possible, there is plenty to compost, coming out of the coop and the kitchen. I bought a compost bin with ventilated sides that sits outside behind the coop. I also purchased a kitchen countertop compost container that is airtight. That is for coffee grounds, eggshells, banana peels — every perishable form of food waste except meat products.
I feel absurdly virtuous now that...
Read more...
When reading a book at night, I invariably sit at my desk, Spotify playing through my earbuds, the Mac monitors glowing in front of me. The book lies flat on the desk, which I built out of black walnut and red oak 15 years ago. I am mighty fond of that desk.
Propping the book open is an embossed leather book weight. It is about 9 inches long with a pair of lead weights entombed inside on either end. It will keep open the heftiest tome in which I am engrossed. The velvet backing has come loose on part of it. I am working up to gluing it back together. One doesn’t approach such tasks quickly....
Read more...
I didn’t plan to write about my dad, just a few weeks after posting a piece about what would have been my parents’ 72nd wedding anniversary. But I can’t get that painting out of my mind. Perhaps writing about it will help. Besides, Father’s Day is coming up. I have been a dad for nearly 47 years. The verdict is likely still out on my fathering qualities.
Some of you have read this before, but others haven’t. I’ll make it brief. My dad drew a paycheck as a commercial artist, a fancy term for a sign painter. A botched medical procedure when he was 58 left him disabled and unable to work....
Read more...
The girls have been with us for a month. Our four Cinnamon Queen hens — Loretta Lynn, Dolly Parton, June Carter Cash, and Patsy Cline — seem quite content in their new abode, now covered in poultry netting so they can safely wander about their fenced enclosure during the day. Around dusk, I go inside the coop. They immediately follow me inside since I am the Food Guy. Truth be told, they are better at coming to me than the pups.
Putting up the poultry netting was a challenge. My Beautiful Mystery Companion and I spent the better part of two days cutting and attaching it with cable ties between...
Read more...
My parents got hitched 72 years ago today.
They married Saturday afternoon on May 30, 1953, at Christ the King Catholic Church in Concord, New Hampshire. Carl Bradford Borders (called Brad) wore his Navy dress blues. He would turn 21 two months later. Grace Adrian Bourque (nicknamed Mickey for reasons never fully disclosed but likely related to her days partying in Boston while attending nursing school) wore white. She was 23.
The wedding photo shows the couple on the steps of the church’s entrance, a young girl peering up at them from behind a tall wooden door. It is a precious photo,...
Read more...
