A bird the color of a stop sign. High on a tree at the Buttercup Farm Sanctuary. A scarlet tanager. My first sighting. A black-winged red bird.
Tree swallows swooping, the insistent chipping of an elusive flycatcher and the headwaters of Wappingers Creek swirling down to the river. What a great place for a Sunday breakfast.
“You look about as festive as a radish sandwich,” Midge had said. And she wasn’t…
"We were young and we were keen; Europe was in flames, and we were ready…
When I was in the emergency room last year having busted my elbow, a nurse…
Most of us have done it at some point or another - accidentally locked ourselves…
Thanks to the #1970 Club, I've spent the spare moments of the past week immersed…