Firehawk sidles his kayak up to the reedy bank and hops out, shells crunching underfoot. I would’ve never found this spot hidden among endless flats of phragmites, but he knows exactly where it is. He comes here occasionally, paying a … Continue reading →
No telling what John Lennon thought when he hopped out of his Rolls Royce at Poplar Grove and saw the tide mill off in the distance. Perhaps the structure’s rustic charm inspired some nascent song lyrics or signaled the peace … Continue reading →
Nothing says spring like two fat roe sacs on a plate. That’s what our great grandparents thought, anyway. Much of the food our forbears looked forward to arrived in the manner that many folks want theirs today–slowly, locally, seasonally. Sadly, … Continue reading →
