Thoughts on Growing Old/er
The tree with the old dog, Buckley
This morning (my birthday) I was reading some poetry to my wife outside under our lovely birch tree in our front yard. Sitting under this tree has been the launching pad for some of our most stimulating conversations. With a cup of coffee or glass of wine, an endless line of wonderful friends have sat with us under this colossal tree over the years. It reminds me of what Eden must have been like.