School was out, and summer was just beginning. We had a new camper we couldn’t wait to enjoy, a newly built outdoor kitchen pavilion area we had just finished at our river lot, and our two-week vacation at the river was just around the corner. Life was good. No more getting up at 5:45 a.m.
I interrupt your regularly scheduled column writing to fill you in on what the heck happened last week on the 9-11 ride. First off, Kenzy told me a lot of different people were pointing at her and waving. She noticed it a lot, and it’s so funny that I said, “Watch for the pink helmet.”
My eyes felt like it was morning before I even opened them. I wanted to open them, but I also wanted to keep them closed so I couldn’t face the fact that it was almost time to get up. My eyes slowly started to open. With each blink, my eyes started to come into focus.
There is a specific kind of thunder that rolls through the ole’ Susquehanna Valley every September. It isn’t the sound of an approaching storm (we sure had enough of that lately) but rather the collective roar of thousands of motorcycles moving as one. The annual 9/11 Memorial Coalition Motorcycle Ride is a tradition. For bikers,
A distinct kind of quiet exists only just after sunrise. Lately, my favorite ritual involves stepping out into the backyard before starting my day. Slipping off my shoes, I walk barefoot through the cool grass to my gardens. Around me, the birds offer their morning chorus, and in the distance, my animals quietly eat their
I know, I know. No one wants to hear it, but school’s back in session, folks. It’s hard to believe. I don’t know where summer went. Each year seems to go faster than the last. Remember when you were younger, how the summers felt like they lasted forever? They were the best days. Days filled
