Holding on to what we know

Sometimes you just know. We humans think we’re rational and pragmatic; steady, reasoned thinkers building our lives on the bedrock of logic and truth. The world is concrete, knowable; we can write it’s substance down in books, post it’s realities on the...

Why the man wore socks to bed

The man drove home from his office, forlorn because he knew his house would be dark and cold and quiet and lonely. His family had scattered. His son had gone off to college, married, and moved to a town and hour away — which was all wonderful and proper, but which...

A world without double-negative nitrogen

I’ve been writing this little column for over five years now, and just when I think I’ve got nothing left to say, my wife opens her mouth. Like most women, she doesn’t do this intentionally, it just happens. And after three decades, she still cracks me up. I was...

So many little things

It was a day of little things. I rushed home from work and yanked my car into the driveway only to find the place dark and vacant. As middle-aged men often are, I was befuddled for a few seconds, and then I remembered that my wife was visiting our son’s family and...

Post holes and other affairs of the heart

Most mornings these days I wake up wondering if I can still dig a hole. A lot of projects on our old farm require shoving a shovel in the ground and by early December things get a little dicey. The nights get darker and colder and when the ground finally does freeze...

If we could choose forever now

An insurrection of chickadees yanked my eyes open very early and I padded downstairs to peer out on the dawn. Morning glory seedlings were straining for the new sun from the windowsill, the sump pump was gushing leftover January out of the basement, and the snow was...