Category Archives: Our Place in the Firmament

Do Not Go Gently Into That Good Night

The past few days have been difficult ones here at the Farm.  High winds have blasted Humptulips County causing several extensive power failures across the grid.  Last Friday morning, I watched the power flicker on and off four times before it finally crashed for … Continue reading

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Memories Of An Old Man

I awoke this morning to find a sparse ground fog irradiated by the light of a nearly full moon hanging in a cloudless, late February sky.  The fog is just dense enough to make a mystery of the fields beyond the pines, and suffused … Continue reading

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The Final Journey, Part One

By the time I was born in April 1945, Bob Weiss had already fought for the Allies in Europe and won a Silver Star in the small French town of Mortain.  How much of his further ‘travels’ throughout Europe courtesy of … Continue reading

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Snake Bit On The Farm

It has been a hellish fortnight here at the Farm, but, when all is said and done, hell has proven not to be such a bad place after all. It all began the day Helen took her car, a 2004 Subaru … Continue reading

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First Frost

This time of year in Humptulips County frost competes with fog for morning dominance.  Since it is still November, fog prevails in these battles much of the time, as it has this morning.  This morning’s fog is light and graceful in its ethereality; transparency is its hallmark.  … Continue reading

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An Autumn Drive Along The River Road

The name — of it — is “Autumn” — The hue — of it — is Blood — An Artery — upon the Hill — A Vein — along the Road — Great Globules — in the Alleys — And … Continue reading

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The Harvest Dew

When fall comes to New England The sun slants in so fine And the air’s so clear You can almost hear the grapes grow on the vine The nights are sharp with starlight And the days are cool and clean … Continue reading

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The Smell of Woodsmoke

I shall build me a house where the larkspur blooms In a narrow glade in an alder wood, Where the sunset shadows make violet glooms, And a whip-poor-will calls in eerie mood. I shall lie on a bed of river … Continue reading

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The Beauty and Allure of Far Horizons

“Sometimes, looking in the windows of art-dealers south of Piccadilly, I find myself wondering how it is that a painter has stopped just here.  I could no more paint that sunset or that beetling cliff, that moorland with the clump … Continue reading

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Random Impressions Of A Spring Day

I find this morning that what I most vividly and longingly recall is the sight of my grandson and his little sunburnt sister returning to their kitchen door from an excursion, with trophies of the meadow clutched in their hands … Continue reading

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