Father’s Day

When my father died we had not been close for years, largely due to my own stubbornness and pride. But these days I celebrate him every time I take a walk in the woods or stop to admire a plant or an insect. Love of the natural world was big in him and he shared it with all of his children.

My father, Italy, 1950

And with me, later

And on a fishing trip with my brother

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