The ripple & the rooting

And other notes on sharpening the hoe of resistance

I’m sitting at my desk dutifully typing, but where I want to be is out in the yard, watching “the ripple” flow across the landscape. You know, the spring ripple, where it seems like every time the breeze blows, a different color washes over the view.

The crabapples are glorious—and darn! just that quick they’re gone, but here come the redbuds and, yes,…