“I am simply a ‘book drunkard.”
― Lucy Maud Montgomery, author of Anne of Green Gables
I share that sentiment with Ms. Montgomery, the Canadian author of Anne of Green Gables, a hugely popular children’s novel adapted for stage, screen, and television since its publication in 1908. Several years ago, my Beautiful Mystery Companion gave me a wooden tchotchke with that quotation on it, which now sits on, well, a bookshelf.
With the passing of the holiday season, and another stack of books arriving as gifts from my family, who understand and share this addiction, I am taking...
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On New Year’s Eve in 1999 – 25 years ago – I sat in the publisher’s office at the Daily Sentinel in Nacogdoches as the clock approached midnight. Across the Angelina River, my counterpart at the Lufkin Daily News was doing the same. A buddy who was the local manager for Southwestern Bell sat in his office as well, as did the fellow who represented the gas company. All of us were waiting for the clock to strike 12 to see if the “Millennium Bug,” also known as the Y2K phenomenon, would wreak havoc on our computer systems.
All of us remained stone-cold sober as we sat in our offices,...
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It’s been a big year. I hope the next one can be smaller.
— Amanda Anne Platt & the Honeycutters
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Another year. Jeez.
I am writing this as the penultimate day of 2024 turns into New Year’s Eve. I admit having only a vague idea what “penultimate” meant until I heard it used on an NPR story I listened to while walking just after Christmas. I Googled it on my phone while hoofing it. I didn’t have to, but you know. It’s what curious minds do in this magical age of instant access to information. For some, that means only the “facts” they want to hear. For me and others...
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Suddenly, it is Christmas.
It is going to be a wet Yule week. The rain is welcomed after a particularly dry (and ridiculously warm) autumn. During this three-week break from working in the LeTourneau library, I shuttle here at Three Geese Farm between working in the shop on my latest woodworking project, a large Craftsman-style ottoman, to wielding a chainsaw out along Glade Creek, which runs through our property.
The ottoman will replace a fake-leather one that the cats over the years have largely destroyed. We keep it covered with a quilt. Pet owners know the routine: Buy nice furniture...
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And the sky is a hazy shade of winter.
— Simon and Garfunkel
The shortest day and the longest night approach as the winter solstice arrives Saturday. It is what Noah Kahan, a young energetic singer/songwriter from my beloved New England, calls “the season of the sticks.” That’s a Vermont name for the time before official winter. It comes just after all the foliage has fallen, leaving the bare limbs hanging in the air like abstract sculptures created by amateur art students.
Here in East Texas, stick season arrived just a few days ago. Leaves skitter along the driveway, fill the backyard....
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I had a semiannual physical exam a while back. Everything checked out well, I am happy to report. A few weeks later, I received an email from the health-care provider’s office, asking me to fill out a survey to ascertain how satisfied I was with the visit. Since I was not given a grave diagnosis, nor ordered to immediately lose weight or otherwise change my habits, I considered the visit a success. I ignored the survey request.
That resulted in several more requests, including one that announced the deadline to fill out the survey was fast approaching. Or what? I wondered. Will my prescription...
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Man plans and God laughs.
– Yiddish adage
Thanksgiving break was supposed to provide time to get chores done around Three Geese Farm, after we all fattened ourselves up on fried catfish and all the high-cholesterol accessories – in a break from traditional turkey and trimmings. Brother Gregg arrived on Black Friday not to shop but to help service Little Red – primarily an oil and filter change, tightening some leaky hoses and connections, etc. Thanks to my inability to distinguish between quarts and gallons, that oil change turned into a bit of disaster that required...
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I was on my own the weekend before Thanksgiving, as my Beautiful Mystery Companion paid a visit to daughter Abbie in Denton. I was entrusted with critter care and used the time to tackle some outdoor tasks. The weather was almost fall-like, though as I dug a large hole it was time to quickly shed my hoodie. Sweating in November is just part of living Behind the Pine Curtain.
The hole, dug in soil made soft thanks to the constant invasion of moles burrowing beneath its surface, was dug to plant a tree purchased once I left work at the library at noon Friday. Autumn is a fine time to plant trees...
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Twenty years ago, the Boston Red Sox were on the cusp of elimination from the playoffs once again by the New York Yankees. The Yankees had won the previous season’s American League Championship Series in seven games – another heartbreaker for my beloved Red Sox. And it looked like another season of frustration was about to end ignominiously as the Red Sox trailed the Yankees three-games-to-none in the American League Championship Series in October 2004. I watched Game Four while staying at the Holiday Inn Town Lake in Austin, holding little hope and a glass of wine. No team in Major League...
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I set off into the woods astride Little Red, our tractor, a few weeks ago. Nearly two months of no rain made it possible to bushhog around the fence lines at the back of Three Geese Farm without fear of getting stuck in the mud. It is largely bottomland acreage there, a chunk of it in a 100-year flood plain.
The weeds were above my head, making mowing rather exciting. I had no idea what I was about to run over and often hopped off the tractor to visually check before forging ahead. I have a healthy fear of getting stuck out in the Back 40 and having to sell a kidney to pay someone to tow Little...
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