My husband, Matt, likes to make things out of wood. He hand-crafted much of the furniture in our home. He built a 2,000-square-foot shop, almost entirely by himself, to code. He constructed the shed for our goat and pig. These have all been useful, sturdy things.
We seem to agree that we will never conquer bigotry, not really, but I wonder why we accept this notion so readily. In a society that strives to eventually eradicate cancer, why do we believe that prejudice cannot also become, one day, entirely obsolete?
The sign read “Welcome to Fallon, The Oasis of Nevada.” Since Hawthorne, Everett and I had been hard-pressed to find anything green along U. S. 95, which traverses Nevada from south to north, but as we neared Fallon we saw alfalfa fields and cottonwood trees.
The Stanislaus Wildlife Care Center in Hughson is a two-acre facility near near the Tuolumne River. Celebrating its 30th anniversary this fall, the center handles about 2,000 animals per year, most for just a short time before being reintroduced to their native habitats.
Here in Merced County, we are down to the last days of the school year, which means end-of-the-year class projects. Projects are not, of course, only assigned in the months of May and June. But during these final weeks, the class project takes on mythical proportions for those kids who need just a few more points.
To grow up in California is to be raised in a place that is always going into a drought, in the middle of a drought, or just coming out of a drought. It is impossible to live in this state without a keen awareness of water, but that awareness is on the same cycle as our droughts – we care deeply about water only one-third of the time, when we must face the reality that it is not the unlimited resource we would like it to be.
Atwater sign ordinance isn’t a bad idea but likely won’t to much to improve the aesthetics of the city and will cost sign twirlers their jobs at a time when jobs are pretty scarce in Merced County. Perhaps city-business partnerships to add some planters and other features would do more to beautify the city.
It’s a warm Sunday afternoon in February and we’re standing in a field at the corner of Highway 140 and Gurr Road, between Merced and Atwater. Bernard Urrutia’s three sons, all teenagers, are helping their mother run the sheep through a temporary chute, made of fence panels, and into a pen for the shearers. Two border collies keep the sheep from turning back.
Falconers saved the peregrine in the mid-1970s after DDT had almost wiped them out in the wild. Without falconers, scientists at institutions such as New York’s Cornell University would not have had any stock for their breeding programs, and without falconers, they might not have known how to raise the eyasses, or chicks, that their programs produced.
George Pena didn’t exactly dislike his job with a life insurance company. It’s just that his heart was elsewhere. Each day, as he sat at his desk analyzing statistics and tallying numbers, he couldn’t help looking out the window as the afternoon passed by. He couldn’t stop wondering what might be going on out there, beyond the city limits.
On the morning of Jan. 30, Sonic didn’t make weight. Like any other athlete, the Barbary falcon doesn’t perform at his best if he’s overweight, and that was the situation falconer George Pena, Sonic’s handler, had to contend with on that grey, drab morning.
Parents struggle to make sense of son’s lack of interest in education. After years of struggles and tension, they opt to to allow him fail in the hope he might learn from failure. Maybe one day a formal education will be his path to happiness, but they accept that such a day may never come. In the end, the best any of parent can do, sometimes, is simply to love their children – not only despite their challenges, but maybe even because of them.
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