“All of them,” he says, eyes glowing, a-light. “And look,” I continue.  “Look at the green, green grass up against those colors.”  I point at the impatiens glory marching along

It was shocking. There they were, the elite cyclists in the racing world, climbing one of the Pyrenees Mountains in the Tour de France. Demonstrating incredible strength and conditioning, they

The rains had come.  Drought still gripped the land, but the liquid gold, so long delayed, had begun to fall, transforming brown landscapes with advancing shades of green. In our

It pained me to see it. Driving along, the signs were stark, sobering. Past lawns, dry and brown. Past fields of corn, leaves curled and brittle. Past homesteads and farms

It had taken a crowbar to do it.  That, and Mr. Schrock’s famous limb, the Left Leg of Leverage, to fit us all into the truck. The holiday had come.

“It’s three months, and we’re all undone.  I don’t know why it’s hitting us like this now, here.”  I feel it, too; tears leaking, heart paining.  “The one,” she nearly

I sigh, overwhelmed with exhaustion, sidelined by fatigue and bone-deep weariness.  But he’s expecting me.  I’m invited, so I go. We jump together.  “You stay over there,” I tell him.

Like a bolt of lightning flung from the heavens, he dropped it in my lap. “I’d like a sister,” he said, peering meaningfully at me. I think I croaked. I

If there were an encyclopedic set entitled “Great Mysteries of Modern Life,” this one would fill an entire volume of its own. It ranks right up there with “Where Do

Electro Boy (a.k.a. Mr. Middle School or Boy Three) is up(stairs), down(stairs), in and out, likely jumping on the beloved Circle of Fun with his baby brother, Little Schrock.  Yesterday,