Count on your local paper

When I was growing up, there were a lot of things I could count on: more than one Rounds brother to a bedroom, a prayer before meals and a local newspaper in the house. I learned early on the local newspaper was not only a source of information, but also a source of income.

Little Pasture on the Prairie

Walking on the gravel toward the draw, I am surprised by the tops of the ash trees nestled in the folds of the land. They are burnished shades of glowing amber, ochre, and lemon-yellow, brighter than any autumn since I moved here.

Stray Thoughts: The Gift of a Garden

Last year my raised-bed home garden grew nothing. I filled the beds with sheep manure which I thought would be really good for plant growth, but an old friend told me that was just too rich for plants to grow in.

Time to start the conversation

Alcoholism, and addiction overall, isn’t a character flaw, or a weakness of self-control. It’s a disease. And, if you are like most of us, you’ve probably been affected by it. Maybe you struggle with alcohol consumption yourself or have a friend or family member who does.

Little Pasture on the Prairie

The librarian at our little town’s library is a good friend and a great person.

Stray Thoughts: Changing of the Guard

I saw two movies in the local theater this month.

Lessons learned

It is September, fall is in the air, and what we might call “respiratory season” is nearly upon us. Respiratory season refers to the colder months in which we spend much of our time indoors, maybe October through March.

Little Pasture on the Prairie

Here on the ranch we are once again experiencing an overabundance of cats. Last winter, in the midst of a personal loss, I let two of the barn cats from the previous summer’s litter become house cats.

Some random thoughts on September 11

Timber Lake Topic September 13, 2001 Where were you on Tuesday, September 11, 2001? That is a question you will ask or answer dozens or perhaps hundreds of times the rest of your life.

Prevention is the best treatment

What I remember most is the silence. She was 19 years old, just starting her first semester of college. She had been transferred to our level 1 trauma center, intubated and in a medically induced coma. I was a third-year medical student, being introduced to the realities of medicine.