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We passed some rushing waterfalls tumbling over rocks as they splashed down the hill. Daddy said that June was the peak season for the rhododendrons that grew wild in the park. As we drove along, the roadside was lined with their pink blossoms and waxy green leaves, and beyond them the lush green hillsides, one after another, becoming blue and then a hazy kind of slate gray as they faded off into the distance . . . Continue Reading

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Oak Ridge. These words always had an enigmatic, almost magical sound to my ears. I couldn’t imagine what my father found so fascinating about this place. More fascinating than nature walks in the woods. More fascinating than teaching biology at the university. So fascinating that he would give up theContinue Reading