A pet that hibernates makes winter vacationing a snap. No boarding needed, no guilt, as with a dog, over separation anxiety. Awake or sleeping, bored or engaged, disgruntled or delighted, Mycroft abides. Continue reading
My Tortoise, My Teacher
Tag Archives: Blessings
A Retiree in Training
In this season of calendar and life, choices are before me. 1.) I can measure walks in miles and minutes, holding to old standards that now feel like a pinch collar. Or 2.) I can recalibrate myself, forget about increments all together, and laugh at my dog. In short, I can get either frustrated or philosophical. Continue reading
Oniontown Pastoral: Christmas Beneath Kathy’s Stars
We’re born, we die. Should I have grieved this commonplace epiphany? I did, a little, but mostly I felt blessed as if by an afghan like ones my mother’s generation draped over the backs of their davenports. I took in Kathy’s stars one at a time and received hope. There’s no other way to say it. Continue reading
Oniontown Pastoral: The Thanksgiving Blizzard’s Sweet Nothings
A festive spirit often accompanies weather that cancels school days. Staring slack-jawed at fat flakes riding the gusts and piling up at three inches an hour can feel like a tonic going down. If you’re normally able to get out and do as you please, being homebound can invite the soul to take a cleansing breath. Continue reading
Hanging on and Letting Go
My guess, late 1947, their first apartment, no children yet. Mom is seated, Dad standing over her shoulder, passing her hair through his fingertips. Their expressions are carefree, Mona Lisa smiles on them both. The instant is tender, the future a blue heaven of hope. Continue reading
Oniontown Pastoral: Godspeed, Sherlock Holmes
He was restless and quivering on the 20th. The next morning Kathy and son Micah got him to the veterinarian in time for his last breath. Our buddy possessed a finicky digestive system, sensitive skin and his breed’s lust for the chase. He hooped endlessly. He was a lanky galoot. His forehead was glorious to kiss. Continue reading
Oniontown Pastoral: Swing Low, Sweet Chariot
What possessed me to start bellowing “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” as I helped my mother-in-law, Edna, remain standing while wife Kathy and daughter Elena quickly changed the hospital bed sheets? I’ve no clue. Continue reading
Oniontown Pastoral: Why We Spoil Sherlock Holmes
Kathy makes Holmes—that’s what my wife calls him—liver treats. Mmm. Our house smells scrumptious when she makes the slurry of cow-organ and grain, spreads it on a baking sheet, and slides it into the oven. But you love a dog, and this is where you wind up: wrecking your kitchen in exchange for a few wags of a boney tail. Continue reading
Oniontown Pastoral: Not One Sparrow Shall Fall to the Ground
Nobody would call house sparrows conspicuous. They wear shades of dormancy, sandy brown and gray like the leafless hedges and trees in my view, charcoal like the sunflowers wife Kathy left in repose by the garage. Continue reading
Oniontown Pastoral: An Old Word for a New Year
Believers and doubters alike can worship shoulder to shoulder in any year or circumstance by “stopping and listening.” Such a wise and generous mantra. Continue reading
A Napper's Companion 