We are talking now about the front porches where neighbors in small towns ebb and flow in the summer twilight, murmuring their joys, worries and loves.
We are talking about young couples who want to marry in the weathered country churches built by their great-grandfathers a century ago -- and about their parents who want to be buried there, where the wind whispers always.
We are talking about children and ponies on the rise of the hill, going nowhere and everywhere, beckoned by cumulus crags and a horizon forever.
We are talking about kids who want to play fullback with the...
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