T Davis

City in the mornings, east, with a flock of commuter-souls: good people; good coffee; noise; lots of people, it's alright. Late afternoon, I drive back westward to the Other Side of the Trees. Summer evenings, we head toward bed, dogs on the deck, gravelly growls warn us of bears. I flashlight up the night, and a black hulk lumbers off through the forest.

My kids love me (God's doing), and my wife is a great woman, who loves me and the kiddos. My joy connects to the hope-stuff. I blog. A mixture of hope, joy, humor, and stories about my long-term journey of melancholy in the light of inexpressible glory.