We spend so much time here complaining about traffic or prices or whatever that we sometimes forget about the outside world
Poseyville’s fishermen lived in small houses. Who cared? They had the sea and the bays and the creeks.
“a host of golden daffodils”
We are but prawns in a game ruled by big fish.
The summer of 1948 was different
Things on the beach have seemed different in the past couple of summers
A camping adventure
They all allege to know everyone and everything that is happening
I surprised Lisa for her birthday this year with a membership in one of the South Fork’s growing number of community-supported agriculture farms
The struggle against entropy continues