A blast from the pasture

The Sunday dawn broke unseasonably warm and bright. I was the lone human at home and suffering cabin fever, so I smuggled Wyatt out of the house and set off for the Front Range foothills to the west. (Though Miles’s hiking days are over, he becomes indignant if he thinks he’s being left behind; every... Continue Reading →

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About Boy: Peter Mayle’s shaggy dog story

When British author Peter Mayle died on Thursday at age 78, every obituary mentioned A Year in Provence (1989), most referenced A Good Year (2004), and many even exhumed his sex education books from the 1970s (Where Did I Come From? The Facts of Life Without Any Nonsense and With Illustrations). Few noted A Dog’s Life (1995), which is one of the all-time great dog books.

The dog who devoured Walden

“Books,” Thoreau declares in Walden, “must be read as deliberately and reservedly as they were written.” In his puppyhood, Reese had a voracious yet discerning appetite for books. And if he could have read them as well as literally consumed them, I’m sure he would have. He shared with Thoreau a hardwired curiosity. “It is... Continue Reading →

This, too, shall (be) past

I had a great editor early in my lately comatose journalism career who loved grammar arguments. He played deaf half the time, but he could hear someone whisper “Oxford comma” from across the newsroom. The one that really stoked his ire, however, was “this past,” as in “this past weekend...” “What the hell does that... Continue Reading →

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