The conservation commission in Strafford has been leading a series of community hikes this spring, exploring our natural communities. Somebody will...
It was once suggested to me that old houses stay cool in the summer because they have not yet completely thawed from winter. Like the old house...
For lack of a more suitable place, I hung an earthenware birdhouse — actually, just a hollow clay ball with a hole in it, an artifact from my old...
I have been wondering if a story about sex might not ease our worries for a bit. Please forgive my anthropomorphism.One summer’s day when the...
Our village grows sleepy every fall, with summer residents draining the pipes and heading south. I have never cared for the end-of-summer migration...
I was left with a house filled with books. Not just a few overstuffed shelves, but rooms so rich with books that one needed caution when entering...
Twined into the soft brown fur of the two small dogs, whom I call “the girls,” we sit on the back porch, the three of us nestled into a velvet...
When hiking in the woods in May, I instinctively look around the base of ash trees. Sometimes in a rich, sweet wood, or near an old stone fence...
Years ago, just out of college, I taught high school art in a small suburb not far from Ferguson, Mo. Our little community was so poor and violent...
The LBDs and I leashed up and took off down the road this morning, as we do every morning, for a jog to the river hayfields. There, the little...
My dad’s sister Mary had a parakeet named Rembrandt. An artist, of Irish descent and pretty enough to have modeled, Mary was prone to sadness and...
Across a red and orange sky, a yellow sun with star-like rays sank slowly toward the watery horizon. Just finished with setting up my tent and...