Nice landing, wrong river.
Wrong direction, too.
Feathers were flying all about our patio a few days ago – an oddity, to be sure. And the mystery, sadly, did not end well.
When it comes to home improvement projects, I follow an ironclad philosophy: If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.
What’s up with dinosaurs, anyway?
Golf may perhaps be more than a game – at least in the case of my weak-willed spirit.
For golf, it seems, has a way of teaching me about certain spiritual defects, such as vanity.
Just about this time every year, I find myself reflecting on the fact that I have something of a soul brother in Nicodemus.
We transplanted some Resurrection Lilies last week, just in time for Easter.
Suffice it to say, it’s not going well.
Unsettling, isn’t it, to recall how “pandemic” took “pan de vida” away from most of us last year…
“It was night,” writes the Evangelist in the gospel passage we hear on Tuesday of Holy Week.
I am haunted by that night.
A fair sky gave good account of its vastness the other evening.