Against The Stream
Saturday dawned, cool and crisp, autumn having finally made its official appearance in these Southernmost parts. Here summer begrudgingly lingers, sending forth its last waves of punishing heat even as the leaves suddenly turn brown (and only rarely yellow or red) and begin their free-fall toward the welcoming ground. Young and old alike consider this disorderly sequence, and the many dark, discouraging signs that surround us in these trying times, and we long for that first refreshing blast of cool. It perks us up. It gives us hope.
Among the pleasures of the past two days was the chance to sit on the banks of the Tennessee River and watch Number One and his University of Alabama teammates compete in their first regatta of the season.… Read the rest
I can’t remember if we were watching a college wrestling match or a ballet performance a few years back when Number Two Son looked at the form-fitting outfits that one of the participants was wearing and declared emphatically, “I’ll never wear one of those.”