As a child, I planted seeds every spring and knew how likely it was that, when I forgot to water them, they would never spring from the dry earth.
Blog Posts about My Family
I did make some progress… although probably my greatest accomplishment was mayonnaise made in a blender.
The art of losing, if it can even be called an art, can’t be mastered.
Like the medieval desert mendicants, holy men who lived their lives in remote caves and were sometimes fed by ravens, Will had long ago lost any interest in possessions, or any taste for food.
What is it about our world that destroys our young men?
As this year comes to a close (some might say thankfully), I’ve once again chosen my most popular posts of 2017, based on visits, comments, Tweets and Facebook likes.
Something in our basic human nature calls for ritual celebration with other people, even if the other people are strangers.
The value of the collection I keep on the top of my bureau seems suddenly, mysteriously clear.
How to keep a spark of hope alive in our so-called democratic process? How not to drop into numbness and apathy?
Last night I noticed how a repetitive task—each leaf pulled off the stalk, dipped in French dressing, and eaten—demands a particular sort of attention.