Simple Life: October Dreams
The house on the hill that haunts my slumber. Even years after leaving Maine and settling in North Carolina, October brings back memories.
The house on the hill that haunts my slumber. Even years after leaving Maine and settling in North Carolina, October brings back memories.
In some ways, gardening and democracies are alike — the more love and attention we give them, the better they’ll do.
In an increasingly loud world, this writer encourages us to be still and listen to what the owls, crickets and birds have to say to us.
A dreaded visit with the writer’s great-aunt turns out to be an education in culture — and a lesson in heartbreak.
Misplacing a pair of eyeglasses has Jim Dodson contemplating gains and deficits on a larger scale.
This columnist finds that even unconditional love has its own set of conditions — Recurring Refrigerator Blindness Syndrome among them.
When a giant old oak tree has to come down, this writer reflects on how his yard and approach to gardening have changed over the decades.
Even on the chilliest nights, this author practices his faith beneath the stars, finding solace in a daily scriptural meditation.
Does the month in which you’re born dictate your favorite kind of weather — and are people really happier when it’s hot outside?
Going through a health and wellness change, this columnist unexpectedly learns that sometimes, less really is more.
After losing his beloved canine companion, this writer’s wife knows that he needs a best friend — and finds him a new dog.
Reflections on a decades-long friendship and fairway rivalry, sparked by a beautiful fall evening.
Saying a fond farewell to Sears’ last North Carolina store, where this writer got his first bike and ogled mannequins.
Fresh-cut grass stirs up memories of you love and early entrepreneurship during writer Jim Dodson’s teen years.