The roaring of the wind is my wife and the stars through the window pane are my children. The mighty abstract idea I have of beauty in all things stifles the more divided and minute domestic happiness.

I hope they get here soon. The kids are biting at the chomp.

When you have snowflakes in the clouds in the sky and you have mountains, you get snow. That's how it works.

All I am, or can be, I owe to my angel mother.

'Daddy, there's Victor, only he has more white hairs now.' (about our neighbor 3 doors down who is a regular reader of McClelland Family.com)