I see the boys of summer in their ruin
Lay the gold tithings barren,
Setting no store by harvest, freeze the soils.
--Dylan Thomas

In Memoriam: G.J.K., 1901-1953

At a point in life when one is through with boyhood, but has not yet discovered how to be a man, it was my fortune to travel with the most marvelously appealing of teams.

And then it was time to start uphill toward another morning and another home.