If you’ve ever looked up at a tangled ball of twigs high in a tree and wondered what it was, […] ...

From my kitchen window in Decatur earlier this week, I saw a gray squirrel with a wad of dead leaves and twigs in its mouth scamper up a white oak in the backyard. I assumed the mouthful of material ...

If we had a keen vision of all that is ordinary in human life, it would be like hearing the grass grow or the squirrel's heart beat, and we should die of that roar which is the other side of silence.