Our Happy Place The green-painted wooden deck located at the rear of our home is, for all intents and purposes, our happy place. When the weather moderates, you can find us—my wife, Elisabeth, pups Ila Mae and Boo Boo, and Read More
Kaboodle
posts relating to kaboodle
Shopping at the A&P “Hang on, mister, we are going to the A&P!” When I was a young boy growing up in Jacksonville, Florida, I thrilled to the sound of my mother’s voice shouting those words. A trip to the Read More
Is Fifty-Four Pounds Enough? With less than two weeks before Elisabeth and I depart for our bicycle tour from Seattle to San Diego, I spent this weekend packing and repacking my bike to find the best distribution of equipment for Read More
We have just arrived in Stamsund, Norway, having spent a full afternoon traveling past towering fjords and across the open waters (the Vestfjorden in case you were wondering) that lie between the Lofoten Islands and Bodo (pronounced Boo-dah, not Bow-doe, Read More
As you may know, I have, on occasion, whipped up a mild fever when I ruminate over a few of my most favorite items of camping or cycling gear. Like, for instance, my Kleen Canteen 64 oz. aluminum insulated Read More
An Olive Tree From A Long Lost Friend The photo above chronicles most of the 2016 olive harvest from our Grove Avenue olive tree. Notice I said “tree,” not “grove.” If it were a grove, we could boast. But we Read More
A Traveler’s Prayer When I travel, I hold one hope so close to my heart it is a prayer of sorts: that I will connect personally with residents of the places I am journeying through. Something as simple as a Read More
Love The Fig Early yesterday evening, I stood in the garden surveying the last of this year’s bountiful fig harvest. Even though a surprisingly cool breeze blew over me, it wasn’t quite worthy of a shiver. The coolness, like Read More
One very still October night, in 2015, just a few feet from the Appalachian Trail, my son Alexander and I lay sleeping peacefully in our respective tents. We had found a comfortable campsite near a small stream about four miles below Standing Read More
Farming, The Only Honest Job in America Many years ago, I worked for a very difficult man who once told me that farming was the only honest job in America. I never really agreed with his assessment of the other Read More
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Who Is The AF Man
