Every time we had to fix a fence my father cursed the British. The chainsaw was thrown into the back of the pickup because we would have to hack our way through the multiflora rose bushes that had overtaken the edges of the pasture. 

Many of us live in places where the weather may change at the blink of an eye. We may have four layers on in the morning, but by afternoon, we have shed three of them: our “I’m warming up” layer, our “It’s past midmorning” layer and our “Dang, it’s a different climate” layer, which leads to …