It was August of ’63, and my family drove to northern Maine to visit family, as usual. We always spent ten days to two weeks in Maine, driving up in summer-weather and returning to fall and school. The summer of ‘63, my father planned a day-hike to climb Mt. Katahdin...
Freya darted ahead while Heathcliff walked on-leash with me down the stone trail from the house to the driveway. It was late afternoon last Tuesday, and we’d had a tremendous storm. I heard a roar. We followed the sound down the hill to the bottom of the ravine. Rain...
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