The stifling remnants of summer have fled at last. Cool autumn air has settled in across the land. Although the trees remain fully leafed, the exhausted gardens sag into their final season.
Autumn may be the season of melancholy, but I don’t feel it. On the contrary, its sudden arrival enlivens every cell of my body. I celebrate the autumn breeze.
[Daily post 079 of 260 in my year-long challenge.] ♨
A few years ago I listened in on a conversation with poet, novelist, and essayist Wendell Berry, introduced that day as “without question the leading agrarian of our time.” He suggested a definition of this term agrarian as a “love for farming” that includes an inclination to put land first as our highest value. “Access to land,” Berry surmised, “provides…
Some days are too long, but most not long enough. My obligations and ambitions pull me in too many directions, and before I know it the day is nearly gone.
A rose by any other name still means that April showers have yielded to May flowers.
Religious elements of national parks may not be obvious, but visitors’ experiences rely to some extent on traditions of religious travel and religio-aesthetic interpretations.
Elvis has nothing on Abraham Lincoln. Although Elvis is profitable, Abraham Lincoln’s iconic stature more than a century and a half after his assassination far exceeds anything Elvis could hope for.
Faith has always been a troubling concept for me, something I intuitively avoid. Perhaps my uneasiness stems from the term’s multiple meanings and uses.
