The Botanical Gardens. Here I sit on a bench by a brook, in the shade of a clump of bamboo trees. I feel the breeze on my face, I see ants and dragonflies, and I watch water bugs dancing in the still parts of the water. When I close my eyes, I hear the babbling water, a variety of birds…
Bucky broke his neck. The sleek gray cockatiel with his yellow cone and his orange cheeks probably only had hours to live. Ando (pronounced AHN-doo), our night guard who had discovered the wounded bird, carefully separated him from the others. I got the aviary for the kids really. We filled it with parakeets and cockatiels, thinking it would be an…
For Good Friday, an excerpt from “Cottage in the Kampung” written around Easter a few years ago… Last night it was time for bed. It was past time for bed really. I was tired and ready to sleep. But I was restless too. I couldn’t put my finger on it at first: on why I felt so restless. But as…
Palm Sunday makes me miss Sudan. Yeah, that’s an unusual statement. I realize that. But it’s true. I mentioned it again last Sunday—Palm Sunday—as we pulled out of our driveway and headed to church. My son asked me why. I’m not sure why. Maybe because it was heart warming to watch the children walk the aisles with their palm branches.…
