On the Shores of a New Life Bright half moon sat on a high shelf just above the embers of the sky, fanned by a slight breeze, casting the faces of the hills in black silhouette. On our evening walk to the river, the air is apple crisp. Tide is ebbing. Little river is walking to Big River in no particular hurry. The water twitches with the caress of insects dancing in the air.
Dogs find new smells along the riverbank.
I'm re-running this column due to a special request from one of our readers. Consider it a Christmas card from our neck of the rain forest coast. This year many people will participate in what has become a modern American Thanksgiving tradition. Instead of sitting around a table stuffing themselves with stuffing, they'll head down to homeless shelters and food banks to work for a while feeding those less fortunate. It is a tradition that has to end.