“My mind is never empty or idle at the joinings of streams.” These words come from Wendell Berry, in his beautiful essay “A Native Hill.” But the sentiment is mine, also.
Last week, Thursday, was Major League Baseball’s Opening Day, despite the fact that the Dodgers and Cubs had played two official games in Japan the week before.
The entire budget of Glacier National Park — a million acres and more than a hundred year-round employees and several hundred seasonal employees — is less than the salary of a single good NFL quarterback. All while bringing in far more revenue than they c … (read more)
In January, I got a call from my college friend Greg: “Hey Karl, want to see Cooper Flagg in person?” he asked. “Heck, yes,” I said.
Here’s the setting: The cavernous Virtue Field House at Middlebury College, 10 a.m. on a quiet Sunday morning early in the fall, the football season. Some 40 to 50 young men, all dressed similarly, shorts and t-shirts with “Middlebury Football” lettering, … (read more)
October 1975: I was a young secondary school teacher in Cleveland at University School, teaching English and coaching baseball and basketball (yes, I’m that old).
Living in Vermont, I take for granted that I can go on a walk among trees and fields any time I want. For the past dozen-plus years, our dog Coda has taken somebody in the family on a walk at least twice a day, year-round. When we lived in Middlebury, alt … (read more)
Standing at the edge of the Trinity River by the Rush Creek boat ramp, I watched the recently risen sun struggle to push a few beams of pale yellow light through the cotton-ball clouds rolling through the foothills of California’s Trinity Mountains.
Stepping out the front door of the National Park Inn, our eyes were drawn at once to the impressive peak of Mount Rainier straight in front of us.
I’ve been thinking about dams lately. I especially been thinking about their removal.
Some time ago, at a Reunion event at Middlebury College, I saw an older fellow sitting by himself. His badge said he was in the class of 1957. I had a question I wanted to pose to him. I introduced myself and asked, “Who was the most prominent athlete on … (read more)
It was the third and final morning to hunt with my uncle Jerry during New Hampshire’s muzzleloader season. We were working the hardwood forests on and around his land, across the Connecticut River from (but still within sight of) Vermont’s Mount Ascutney) … (read more)
The baseball, this magical orb, the actual baseball, Angell’s small miracle of design and utility, has not essentially changed in nearly a century.
It was one of those 2024 autumn afternoons in Vermont that has been so common this October. Bright foliage. Beautiful blue skies: not pale winter blue, or grayish slate, but that deep azure we might not even accept as real if presented on an oil painting. … (read more)
I must begin this column with a correction, a mea culpa. In my last column, about golfer Keegan Bradley who was born in Woodstock and spent his early years there, I declared that he was the “most prominent and accomplishment sports figure from Vermont on … (read more)
