My teenage son burst into the house, flushed with youthful vigor after an all-night session of slam-dancing to the music of the Dead Milkmen. And suddenly I am aware of my age. I look at myself and my
From my window I can observe a congregation of large brown monoliths on my neighbor’s hillside. They might be religious artifacts of some prehistoric culture or stones deposited by glaciers. But they’
Every spring three turkey vultures return to our farm and roost on top of the barn. The event isn’t exactly like the annual return of swallows to San Capistrano. The vultures aren’t anyone’s idea of “