A Short Story by Jack Mint Grass grows over most of the up and down landscape. A few places are islands of bare gravel. They are surrounded by yellowing halos where the green of that grass sank to somewhere else below the footsteps of ants. They proceed in the sporadic lines of a march step they’ve known forever creased in the crisscross nature of continuing. Casting spritely shadows on the ants, bees peruse the sunlight on the clearing like marooned sailors. They look down mostly. They search for flowers the scouts had reported back at the hive. Bees dance to…

Dear Editor, For those of us who have chosen to reside here in beautiful northwest Arizona, there is almost an overabundance of things for which to be thankful. As most folks who live here are immigrants from other states, it might be interesting to examine the contrasts between here and those other places and to examine just why folks have chosen to live here. Now, with my tongue planted very firmly in my cheek, here are some descriptions of those other places. Northern tier states offer lots of greenery and fishing and hunting and opportunity for gardening and sometimes a…