The snow was mostly gone, although – as is the way with micro-climates – there were patches glazed with ice and slick with melting snow. But mostly it was soggy and brown with leaves.
The going was easy in spite of a sockful of icy water from fording a swollen rill without a split log bridge.
At Stoney Brook a lunch break was accompanied by a pileated woodpecker – its hammering silenced by the rush of the river and the brook tumbling over boulders.
A cold, wet February day - perfect backdrop for a journey into Romanticism—off on the…
Dialogue with Dignity I’ve been thinking about issues of racial justice since I was a…
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There’s something irresistible about a crime story set in a school or college. Like the…
The two-forty-five express — Paddington to Market Blandings, first stop Oxford—stood at its piatform with…
Changing your mind is perfectly normal—and often essential. After all, it’s what education is all…