Two months ago my mother died. She made, as the expression goes, a good death.

Two months ago my mother died. She made, as the expression goes, a good death.

Brothers naturally invite comparison.

Autumn has come to northeast Montana. The vapor of one’s breath, the clarity of the stars, the smell of wood smoke, the stones underfoot that even a full day of sunlight won’t warm- these all say there will be no more days that can be mistaken for summer.