This song, written by Peter Sturges in the mid 1960’s, captures that conflict suffered by most of us in our early years: the conflict between the freedom of rollin’ and the tug of love.  

If love were a thing with a body and soul – the body of Love would be a vessel.

Go with me, if you would, to a Saturday night in a small, one hotel town in the Smokeys, or Central Maine, Southern Alabama, the Cascades or anywhere in between. 

There are many phases of life. Some, like childhood and adolescence, we all experience. 

The soul of love is commitment, a unilateral pledge by one to another, purest when made with knowledge of that  which one knows to be one’s own, yet best achieved by overcoming self in favor of the other.

The education and travels of an American horticulturalist. A smorgasbord of facts spiced with a dash of fiction.

If you throw a rock into a lake on a calm morning, the ripple will go on and on across the water and may even rebound off the far shore and return to meet itself.

Sitting above First Bisby Lake in the Adirondack Mountains of New York is the “Woods Camp”, a collection of boathouses and cabins surrounding a central log home known as the “Beehive”. 

In the mid 1960’s they were in a transition, moving from Los Angeles to a ranch outside of Pinedale, Wyoming, on the upper Green River, looking for a life that fulfilled them as a couple and as a family.

Now it’s time to go to sleep, where Noble Knights of Night will keep you Safe from scary things we know, hairy beasts and other foe.

Long ago December, a bleak Alaska sky. I hopped a midnight flight to Anchorage arriving in the early morning and went to the YMCA to get a bed.  It was the darkest part of the winter which meant that the sun was rising in the mid-morning and setting mid-afternoon.  

Each to each a friend, or soon to be. All seven, born in 1948, became neighbors in a small village, a suburb of a sleepy Midwestern town.