Hear the wind (a haiku)

A cloud is my mother. The wind is my father. My son is a cool stream. My daughter is the fruit of the land.  A rainbow is my bed. The earth is my final resting place. The above is a riddle and very appropriate. See if you can solve it. If not, the answer can…

I always ski on June 1st. Some years, the lifts are running, and I’m surrounded by a thousand of my closest friends and fellow ski bums, the line wrapping around the base lodge. Some of us are there for the bragging rights, others for the free t-shirt, and some time at the Umbrella Bar. There’s…

I know it was second grade because I remember the classroom. And I know what teacher was involved because I never forgot her or the moment I’m about to highlight. The year was 1974. I don’t have many memories from that stage of my life, but the following was poignant enough to have possibly set…

There is nothing like the royal blue of an indigo bunting. In the Northeast, they arrive fashionably late to the spring fling, behind the vanguard of migrating warblers and other songbirds. On my morning walk in my frequent birding spot – my “patch,” as birders call it –I heard the sharp double-noted tune: “Look! Look!…