One morning, I went to start the faucet to water our cool-season vegetable garden and saw, just beneath the eave of the house, a Gulf fritillary that had emerged from its chrysalis. Its body dripped with liquid, the cracked shell of its transformation hanging above it. My daughters came and squatted beside me, watching it wait to join the fray.
Read MoreTHE LIGHT WAS GRAY before the orange of full dawn, enough to see outlines and objects, potholes and gravel, but not yet enough to make out the details of things. It was a Sunday morning. I was on my way to work—a priest preparing for the sacred things—vested in spandex and Lycra, pedaling my bike…
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For young families, connecting with a trail is oftentimes just a matter of taking the first few steps—even if they’re taken at a crawl
Read MoreThey say St. Peter was able to walk out on the water before his faith gave way and he started to sink. I think about that as I stand on a cove off the Arkansas River, upright and level with the water, hoping that my trembling legs will keep me from falling in. Looking from…
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