Across the Great Barrier

You can't force folks to have good sense, even if they're family. Maybe especially then.

Sometimes, though, you have to do things for family, even if you'd rather not.

Out here, it's better safe than sorry, because generally speaking, too much of the time sorry means you're dead.

No matter how good you are at sneaking, you can't ever sneak well enough so that mosquitoes won't find you, and no matter how worried and tense you are, or how hard you are trying to pay attention, you just can't help noticing when a cloud of mosquitoes comes for you like you're their first good meal since last fall.

Starting is good. You can’t get anywhere at all if you never start.

William didn't look like he'd be difficult about anything - he was thin and sandy-haired and already wore eyeglasses like his father. Most of the time he didn't say much. But when he was curious about something, he was stubborner than a bear after a honeycomb.

Winter was usually the slow season at the menagerie, with so many of the animals hibernating, but that year I was busier than a hen with a double set of chicks.

Early in August, Lan came and found me down at the creek. It was a Sunday afternoon and so hot that even the mosquitoes were drowsing instead of biting people.