This annual garlic adventure of mine turns out to be a time to wrestle, without having to pin them down, some of the more worrisome problems we now face “in these United States.” It is easy to ignore unpleasantness; even harder to know what to do about it. As I was hanging up the last of the garlic, I was thinking of W.B. Yeats’ great poem, “The Second Coming.”…
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I am aware of the extent to which grilling and manliness go hand in hand. By that account, as well as others, it appears that I fall short with respect to any acceptable measure of masculinity. Since I have never allowed specious stereotypes to stand in my way or diminish my sense of self, so be it. Men, if grilling satisfies some inner need, be my guest.…
Gardening is a labor of love, but over time the labor part trumps the love part—knees ache faster, arthritic digits stiffen, lower backs get creaky. We are committed to sitting down and making the hard cuts. We no longer need the quantities we’ve become accustomed to.…
The other thing those lovely red birds reminded me of was the impossibility of ever really understanding what we refer to as the “other.” We could scrutinize one another for an infinity of lifetimes and never bridge the gaps that separate us.…
There are all kinds of warfare. The ideological and political warfare raging across our country these days is as disturbing as it is, unfortunately, quite predictable.…
Desert Dispatch by Richard deRosa Hiking Offers Temporary Distractionfrom the Difficulties of Today While hiking the last few days, we have seen the first blush of spring blooms, aided by more rain in these parts than we have ever experienced at this time of year. Fairy dusters, lovely pale pink flowers, are popping up everywhere along the trails we hike. Brittlebush, whose bright yellow blooms are a staple of the desert landscape, are also getting into high gear. A birding…
