BY HARRY WALTZMAN Valentine’s Day driving past the florist just opened in Congers, I stopped and ignored the roses, as too fragile my wife always forgets to water them. I spied a strange plant new to my sight, Rolling back the tin foil covering it’s base, it was a bromeliad clutching a bowl of sand […]
By Harry Waitzman Once I tried to grab the tail of a cow and got swatted on my face. I was alone with the smell of hay in the barn and the sound of swallows whirring in the eaves. I tried milking the young Guernsey and got blisters on my fingers. After bandaging them, I […]
