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A father and a daughter, playoff football on the TV at a snow-swept B&B, and the glories of western New York.

Birds’ cries are full of mystery.

Having fallen kersplat on a particularly unforgiving sidewalk near Starbucks the other day, I knew it was time to trade in my sneakers.

A litany of localism test questions

We sat rapt last night, beyond our bedtime, through a chilling “Frontline” report on those who think their freedom’s infringed if they cannot infringe upon the freedom of others.

Few things are as satisfying as a well-done home repair.

A tough row to hoe for the college bound.

While the pandemic has created havoc in so many aspects of life, Covid-19 has turned out to be the one thing that could finally save the Department of Motor Vehicles.

From Atlanticville to Hog Neck, what happened to the great place names of yore?

We find ourselves in the perverse position of wishing for raw, freezing weather.

Sports here got off to a stuttery start last year at this time, and I’m hoping this dreary virus doesn’t eat again into one of my life’s chief joys, which is rooting animatedly for the home, sweet home team.

It’s Tuesday morning at 10 minutes to 10, and I have somehow neglected to come up with a subject for this week’s column, which needs to be turned in by 2:20 this afternoon.