Like all city boys (I spent my formative years in Los Angeles), I was enchanted when I finally got out to the radically different milieus of the coastal beaches, the small town countryside, the mountains that became visible around the LA basin when the smog finally lifted in winter, and the deserts that sprawled out seemingly to infinity on the far side of San Bernardino.
The slower pace, the natural grandeur, the different recreations and preoccupations engendered by distance from the urban hubbub.
It was like a new life had been opened to me, featuring new vistas over which my eyes could wander and my heart could soar.
By the time my year and a half or so of farm living was up, we would wind up eating both Beatrice and Abby, an occurrence that had me wondering about the wisdom of ever having given them names.
These feelings only quickened as I graduated from college and a school for the severely handicap...Read More