Today's Features

Two years ago, taggers hit the side of my garage that faces one of Las Vegas’ alleys, hit it with white aerosol spray in the shape of a Halloween ghost surrounded by bulging initials. It wasn’t the first time; black paint covered most of the space in a feeble attempt to cover a prior message. I gave up the ghost, left the imprint to bake in the sun.

A set of rustic chairs, His and Hers, each painted with the visage of artist Grant Wood’s famous coupling, “American Gothic,” rests in Carol Baldwin’s home art studio.

The chairs seem to hold a conversation with one another, pitchforked farmer stern and willful against a quiet woman, her hair pulled back into a severe bun. A shorter chair watches the exchange. Painted with Wood’s depiction of adolescence, a pin-feathered chicken, it eyes the couple with one watery eye.

Peter Skelton points with pride to the many seedlings growing outside his greenhouse at Memorial Middle Schools. The seedlings, of concord grapes, and some special varieties of apple and apricot, have all been grafted onto hardy rootstock by his students.

“We are researching which strains are appropriate for this bioregion,” Skelton said. “We are also using this to teach the students the differences between hybrids and clones.”

The summer before my sophomore year of high school was a summer of change and adventure. It might’ve seemed like an ordinary summer at the time, but looking back, I can clearly see that it was different. It was the summer the sixth Harry Potter book came out. It was the summer before my sister started college. It was the first summer I attended summer camp. It was the last summer I spent with my best friend before she moved to Texas.