I'm what the botanists call a hybrid, he said the first time Cora heard him speak, A mixture of two different families. In flowers, such a concoction pleases the eye. When that amalgamation takes its...
The iron horse still rumbled through the tunnel when she woke. Lumbly's words returned to her: If you want to see what this nation is all about, you have to ride the rails. Look outside as you speed t...
(n.) The blue-winged snow goose.
(n.) The surf scoter.
You've a perfect right to call me as impractical as a dormouse, and to feel I'm out of touch with life. But this is the point where we simply can't see eye to eye. We've nothing whatever in common. Do...