Thursday, September 17, 2026

News and Ideas Worth Sharing

Bob Gray

Bob Gray has lived in Great Barrington most of his life. He was an English teacher and Department Chairman at Monument Mountain Regional High School for 25 years. He has written for publication in various newspapers and literary journals as well as a book on life in the Berkshires.

written articles

BOB GRAY: Ghosts

Shades of past lives, slim in the shadows, they sway slightly in the hot summer breeze.

BOB GRAY: Midsummer

I remembered reading that, if time ever stops, it's on a summer afternoon.

BOB GRAY: A folly by any other name

Tired or lazy, I left the rest and planted flowers and grasses, never giving the place another thought before I discovered I had the ruin I always wanted.

BOB GRAY: Light and shadow

After the Summer Solstice, waiting for us just around the next bend in time’s progress, the shadow will begin its drift back toward me, slowly demonstrating the diminishing light and the shortening days.

BOB GRAY: Garden thoughts

A garden, large or small, invites a man to know the earth, the wind, the rain, and himself.

BOB GRAY: Children’s Crusade

Following the latest school shooting atrocity in Parkland, Florida, another Children’s Crusade is rising: a largely youth-bred movement meant to persuade legislators to take some meaningful action to stem the needless deaths of our country’s children in schools.

BOB GRAY: Contender

I told my fiancé my plans. She gave me an ultimatum: rope ring or gold ring.

BOB GRAY: Vultures transformed

In this morning’s light, they sat silent, looking brittle as if they might clatter.

BOB GRAY: Volunteers

The squash had “volunteered,” and in their term of enlistment had evaded the damned, destructive woodchucks.

BOB GRAY: Dangerous pig

While Trevor went off to buy a foot-long corn dog, I paid a buck to a guy with greasy jeans to visit the world’s largest pig and the world’s smallest horse.

BOB GRAY: This solid flesh

For the past 50 years, however, I’ve been very successful at losing weight and estimate I’ve dumped more than 300 pounds overboard.

BOB GRAY: Changing views

We knew the stream as Icy Brook. The trout we sought were natives, eight or ten skittish inches long, and pink as salmon.

BOB GRAY: February hunt

In the field, my friends and I leaned into a cutting, northwest wind, looking all the while like stressed tree-line pines.

BOB GRAY: Owls at dusk

To a man well past the radius of his life's circular journey, the dusky owls' calling suggests hard-learned wisdom.

BOB GRAY: Migration

If you've kept up with your chores, if your wood pile's high, and your flower beds gone over, put away your hoe and rake.

BOB GRAY: Spot in the sun

At other camps where I'd worked decades ago, the summer's endings were crowded with good-byes and tearful promises to keep summer loves alive.
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The Edge Is Free To Read.

But Not To Produce.