
It’s the most glorious time of year. The intoxicating scent of sweet roses fills my senses as I walk through the forest trails, not from roses, but from millions of blossoms on the Victorian-era apple trees on my property. As I pause to capture photos under the massive old trees, their petals fa…

I watched as the man who was like a second father to me, a man who was loved by everyone who knew him and affectionately referred to as “The Padre,” frantically placed his hand over his heart and fell backward.





