My husband celebrated his own first Father's Day after welcoming our son three years ago. By this time next year, he'll have double the pleasure on his big day since I’m now pregnant with a little girl.
Back in 2012, our own (elected) Tweeter-in-Chief objected to something – I no longer remember what, exactly - by saying “We can’t let this happen. We should march on Washington... Our nation is divided.”
And while we may not share many opinions, I think that’s a great idea. So this Saturday, I will march – as one of many others in the Women’s March on Washington.
I love holiday cards. As soon as I get one, up it goes in our kitchen, and there it will stay for months. Sometimes I don’t even make it past the mailbox before I’ve opened the latest arrival to savor the good wishes and see the smiling faces of our friends and family.
As we mark the fifth anniversary of Tropical Storm Irene, meteorologists are warning that the current hurricane season may be more active than originally predicted, meaning we may need more storm names than we might have thought.
Winter is finally here. And every bright, sunny day beckons me to get out and tend to my apple trees. The trees would be fine if I never laid a finger on them. But if I want bigger, more abundant, and accessible apples, I need to prune.
I was excited to hear about the Park Prescription Program - in which a handful of Vermont doctors prescribe visits to the great outdoors in the form of free Vermont State Park passes. This is definitely a prescription worth filling now that summer is here.
The blossoms are now abuzz with pollinating bees – and without them, we wouldn’t have much food. That’s a scary thought since honeybees are battling a Colony Collapse Disorder that threatens their population.
Trout season begins this Saturday, giving me until November to teach my son a thing or two about fishing.
I’ll admit he won’t learn much this year considering he’s only one. But thanks to the Vermont Department of Fish and Wildlife and the Lifetime Fishing License he got for his first birthday, my son, Hoyt, can now legally fish in Vermont for the rest of his life.
It's been a while, now, since the funeral of that indelible newspaperman Ben Bradlee. As with all old news, the coverage has ended. And I fear that with his death, so too will pass the standard he set for journalism.