Curations from the Human Jungle
by Stephen Morris Sunday was a classic September day on the Gilead. There was morning valley fog, but by eleven a.m. it was starting to lift and by noon the area was buttered in golden sun. It was a tug of war day, but in the best possible way. The air is summer, but the... Continue Reading →
The Flame Flickers in West Brookfield If there is a sacred moment for the residents of West Bookfield, it is during the singing of Silent Night at the end of the nonsectarian Christmas Eve service in the spare, wooden church, built in 1839. There’s no glitter, no flashing lights. The space is sparsely decorated with... Continue Reading →