Burn, Drag, Split, Stack
A pile of wood—branches and brush, or full-grown timber—imposes its presence. It can stop a truck.
To Explain
The very branches where fathers courted mothers, and later supervised the first flight of youngsters, will be gone.
Holiday Megalopolis
It is within the power of marketing to transform any inherently good and joyful thing into one of those over-muscled people, wearing a Speedo.
Eat, or be Eaten
I am all about live and let live these days, with one—well, two—current exceptions: ticks, and mosquitos.
800 Words on Maple Syrup and Wiper Fluid
You may be thinking, is he really postcarding about washer fluid behavior?
Our Town
I kept thinking . . . all these people are paying what it costs to buy food for a week to hear what Mr. Wilder can share with them about life . . . . in our small corner of the world.
November
November 11 29 24 349 PM0:00/318.01752834467121×
November scored first this season with one power outage, one tree
Labor Day Weekend. Already.
The steps to our hillside garden are not repaired. The felled wood is not all cut up and stacked. The dock is still waiting to be treated with teak oil.
Summer People
The July and August people have arrived, bringing with them their patronage of our stores and their vehicles, requiring me to look both ways before pulling out of the driveway.
June
Huckles has developed a problem: he visits the neighbors.