Tuesday, September 15, 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: A pile of bricks, a stack of wood

It's time to sit in the arbor and listen to the grapes grow.

BOB GRAY: Red house for sale

It took some time, many of my seventy years it seems, to realize, for most of the years I'd lived there, it never really was my home.

BOB GRAY: Kindred Spirits

He seemed about my age, and I appreciated, as he read, what I understood as resonances of both vigor and mortality.

BOB GRAY: Blowing in the wind

How similar this day was to the day I buried my father, the remembrance, not only of the simple, grave-side service, but also of this same wind seeping through my coat.

BOB GRAY: Signs of spring

Spring geese suffer from a touch of spring fever and have trouble sticking to the serious business of migration.

BOB GRAY: Half-past winter, signs of life

In the next six weeks you might see horns of skunk-cabbage in a sun-warmed swamp.

BOB GRAY: A plea for sanity — ban assault weapons

Only a titanic shift in our national character might make stricter gun laws an effective reality.

BOB GRAY: Turnings

I've always wished, and have earnestly tried, to believe in the circular nature of life.

BOB GRAY: White dazzle

If he's winter wishing on a snappy but drab December day, he can't help but hope the changing weather might bring a little snow.

BOB GRAY: Sextet    

Clouds of leaves spin and wobble into the slow current and start downstream.

BOB GRAY: Path less traveled

I walk in part to stop time, since I’ve read somewhere that movement freezes time, forestalls aging.

BOB GRAY: Chaos among the vines

I'd decided to circle the vines with sunflowers, plant the seeds inches apart hoping they'd grow like logs into a stockade.

BOB GRAY: A manly pursuit

It’s sad that rusty stereotyping might keep even one person from enjoying anything his heart and soul might urge him to do.

BOB GRAY: Farewell(s) to summer

In its finality, August, by my lights, lives a double life: a brazen, wilting day at first, a day as crisp as October the next.

BOB GRAY: A dream of hawks

Hawks are of another, wilder world ruled by a less benign and forgiving god than the one I’ve heard about.

BOB GRAY: Summer Solstice

Scarce starlight in the double glowing of the night sky remind us the Soltice is really about light, long days of summer so easy to live with, encouraging us to forget caution and prudence, and, like sky night, burn our candles at both ends.
spot_img

The Edge Is Free To Read.

But Not To Produce.