They crisscross the sky like a gigantic tic-tac-toe game, the contrails of the jets that are too high to see, but there just the same. Because the...

This ramshackle house, about to collapse, with not one true-square corner to its credit, is how I wake up some mornings. Out of plumb, not syncing...

My father was a rock hound, so I developed my love of geology early. He’d bring home a new find and hand it to me proudly. “This is schist,” he’d...