Safe Migration

            It was April in Alaska, when steel-gray skies weigh upon the heart, and birch trees seem to dress in mourning attire. About mid-month we hadn’t packed away knit caps yet, and underfoot my wife and I crunched traction sand on pavement that finally replaced black ice. As we ambled along, we desperately searched for…

Grand Season

As we walked, my granddaughter Edie’s song reminded me what really matters. Together we listened to the chorus of wind as it whispered to cottonwoods and birch trees, “Get dressed for winter.” It’s hard to wrestle time from the grasp of obligations — and then give it away. But those memories linger in the heart…