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Flowers, Vegetables and Grasses for Fall and Winter

Growing plants keeps your soil alive and well all year long.
    In the flower garden, plant annuals and perennials close together. The tops of perennials die back to the ground in fall and winter, but perennial roots stay active as long as soil temperatures are above freezing.
    Add cold-weather annuals such as pansies, sweet William, ornamental cabbage and kale to fading perennials to give life and color to the winter garden. They will also absorb nutrients already in the soil.
    Pansies provide a wide range of color and will bloom off and on all winter. Come spring, they will produce an abundance of blooms in late April lasting through May. Sweet William is bi-annual. If you plant it this fall, it will flower well in the coming spring and even more profusely in the spring of 2016.
    Caution: Rabbits love pansies. If you have rabbits, scatter mothballs under the leaves. If you have children, wrap the mothballs loosely in aluminum foil and cover them with a thin layer of mulch.
    In the vegetable garden, broccoli, cabbage and collard greens, kale and turnips are colorful, hardy and harvestable through much of winter.
    A green alternative is a soil-covering crop of winter rye. Winter rye grows a lush green carpet of grass. The perfect scavenger crop, rye grows roots deep in the soil, absorbing nutrients not utilized by the previous plants and protecting groundwater. On the surface, rye prevents your soil from being washed away by heavy rains or winds.

Bulbs Planted Now Bring Spring Rewards

    Bulbs planted in October and November go to work now. In fall, they root quickly and absorb residual nutrients from the soil. In spring, they bring the garden to life.
    Plant tulip, narcissus or daffodils, hyacinths and crocus bulbs in October and November for April bursts of color.
    Plant garlic and long-day onions for spring and summer harvest.

Flowering Bulbs
    For flowering bulbs, dig deep. Excavate an area 12 inches deep and at least 12 inches wide. Add a four-inch-thick layer of equal parts by volume soil from your hole and good compost. Do not put sand under the bulbs.
    Place bulbs at least one inch apart on top of the blended soil with the flat side of the bulb against the wall of the hole. Planting this way will direct leaves to bend outward, giving the planting a more appealing appearance. Place a single bulb in the center. Cover the bulbs with eight inches of blended topsoil and compost.
    Don’t use a bulb-planting tool, which makes holes too shallow and compresses the soil along the walls of the hole, especially if the soil contains large amounts of silt or clay.
    Blend equal parts compost and topsoil and layer the soil four inches thick across the bottom of the hole before planting. Position the bulbs upright for uniform blooming in the first year. The compost will supply all of the nutrient needs through the first growing season.
    Narcissus … daffodils … or jonquils. Whatever you call them, these spring plants are perennials in Southern Maryland gladly blooming year after year. Plant now and you’ll have yellow blooms bursting through melting snow.
    Plant your daffodils deep and you can also plant hyacinth, crocus and more seasonal flowers above the daffodil bulbs without fear of damaging the bulbs with digging tools.
    Tulips are often an annual crop in Chesapeake gardens, as our warm springs disagree with them.
    Unlike daffodils and hyacinths, tulips produce a new mother bulb each year, plus possibly a few daughter bulbs. Because our springs are short — before long, hot summers — tulip foliage does not last long enough to build a new bulb equal to or larger than the original. The Netherlands and more northern states like Michigan enjoy optimum tulip climate: cool springs that last for several weeks.
    To get your tulips to flower more than one year, plant them by mid-October in a well-drained location in full sun. Early planting assures that the bulbs develop a large root system before soils cool with the arrival of winter.
    If you want your tulip bed to last many years, choose yellow tulips, which, for some unknown reason, perform better and last longer than red, white or pink cultivars.
    Caution: Deer love tulips; don’t plant them if deer visit.

Onions and Garlic
    Garlic bulbs can be planted from early September until mid November. The plants need time to produce visible foliage before the ground freezes.
    Select a location in your garden that will receive maximum sunlight. Garlic planted in partial shade will not produce fully developed bulbs.
    Garlic grows best in well-drained soils rich in organic matter. To meet the organic requirements, spread about two inches of compost over the soil and spade or rototill as deeply as possible.
    A soil test will tell you your pH and how to achieve the garlic ideal of near 6.5.
    Plant each clove, pointed side up, in holes four inches deep and four inches apart in rows 10 inches apart.
    Just before the ground freezes in December, mulch with a one-inch layer of compost.
    Next spring, water thoroughly at least twice weekly. In May, cut the flowers just below the swollen part of the stem as they form so as to maximize the size of the bulbs.
    Just as soon as the leaves start to turn brown in early summer, dig using a forked garden spade to minimize damage to the bulbs.
    The short days of fall and winter are beloved by short-day onions. A short-day onion variety will form a bulb only when the days are short. Begin planting any time now so the plants become well established before the ground freezes. To give them the organic matter they want, amend your soil with an inch or two of compost prior to planting.
    After the ground freezes in winter, mulch the onions again one to two inches deep to help prevent the frost from pushing the onions out of the ground with repeated freezing and thawing.
    As soon as the plants resume growth in the spring, apply a water-soluble fertilizer to stimulate early active growth.
    Harvest begins in June.

Blood and booze flow through Brooklyn

To most of the people who haunt the tattered stools of Cousin Marv’s Bar, Bob Saginowski (Tom Hardy: Locke) is just a shy face behind the taps. He quietly tends bar, slips into daily mass and suffers his cousin and business partner, Marv (James Gandolfini: Enough Said).
    A former loan shark, Marv is brooding about the Chechen mob that muscled into the neighborhood and his bar. Now his dive is a drop, one of dozens of Brooklyn bars where the Chechens launder dirty money.
    When masked men rob the bar and make off with the mob’s money, Bob and Marv have another problem.
    The Drop is a departure for writer Dennis Lehane (Boardwalk Empire), who adapted his short story for the screen. Lehane turns The Drop into a poignant tale of misspent lives.
    Director Michaël Roskam (Bullhead) forgoes fancy camera work for simple, understated shots. The sparse shooting style emphasizes the cold world Bob and Marv navigate. The result is an actor’s film, where performances are the focus.
    In his final film role, Gandolfini plays to the type that made him a star: a tough-talking New Yorker who has deep connections to the city’s criminal underbelly. His Marv is a sneering ball of insecurities, a deeply dissatisfied man whose bitterness manifests in violent deeds and angry words. It’s an engaging performance, but after eight years playing Tony Soprano, it’s a performance Gandolfini could have done in his sleep.
    Hardy is the star, offering an elegant, nuanced performance as quiet, unassuming Bob. Though his accent is more generically American than Brooklynesque, Hardy works around this impairment, imbuing Bob with depth. He’s a man who can both cuddle a puppy and get rid of a body part left on his doorstep.
    A crime thriller with a soft side, The Drop exemplifies the power of subtle filmmaking. You’ll find no big car chases nor dramatic shootouts, just a brilliantly acted film about mob bagmen struggling to get by.

Good Drama • R • 106 mins.

The equinox ushers in fall

Week’s end finds the waning crescent moon in the company of Jupiter before dawn. Around 6am Friday morning, look for the moon high in the east with Jupiter to its lower left. The same time Saturday the moon shines just six degrees from Old Jove. Then Sunday, the now razor-thin crescent is well below Jupiter, while the first-magnitude star  Regulus, is just six degrees away.
    While you should have no trouble spotting the waning crescent moon and Jupiter in the east before dawn, Venus is a trickier target. This Morning Star rises less than an hour before the sun, and that window of visibility shrinks by about a minute each day.  At best Venus is only 10 degrees above the horizon before sunrise, so you may need to scour the eastern skyline with binoculars to pinpoint Venus’ otherwise dazzling glow.
    This time of year before dawn offers the best chance to spot the eerie zodiacal light also called false dawn. You need dark skies away from any urban glare to see the zodiacal light, which glows like milky pyramid of light rising from the horizon an hour or two before actual dawn.
    Unlike true dawn, the zodiacal light is a pale, ghostly glow devoid of the rosy tint from the coming sun, which is caused by light entering earth’s atmosphere. The zodiacal light is actually sunlight reflecting off countless bits of dust and detritus within our solar system that orbit the sun along the same path as the planets. This time of year the ecliptic — the path of the sun, moon and planets — stands nearly straight up with respect to the eastern horizon before dawn.
    At the other end of darkness, Mars and Saturn shine low in the southwest in the early evening. Of the two, Saturn is slightly brighter and is farther west, setting around 9:30pm. Mars isn’t far behind, setting shortly after 10. But while the ringed planet is weeks away from disappearing amid the glare of the sun, Mars remains a fixture in our early evening skies for weeks to come.
    A clear view to the west-southwest immediately following sunset may reveal Mercury burried in the horizon. Binoculars will help, but don’t confuse it with nearby Spica, which is only a couple degrees away through the weekend. They are so close that both will appear in the same field of view using binoculars or a telescope.
    Monday at 10:29pm EDT, the sun is poised directly above the equator somewhere in the vicinity of New Guinea. On that day or the following, the sun rises due east and sets due west, dividing the day between near-equal amounts of daylight and darkness for everyone around the globe. For the 90 percent of us living in the Northern Hemisphere, this equinox marks the beginning of autumn.
    Because of the earth’s 231⁄2-degree tilted axis, the Northern and Southern Hemispheres each receive more direct sunlight and warmth than the other for half the year. Twice a year, earth’s tilted axis and its orbit around the sun come together just so that the amount of light and dark are equal around the globe. Hereafter our time in the sun will grow shorter each day as the sun creeps ever southward of due east until reaching winter solstice in late December, its farthest point south in our skies.

Catch Phytophtora quick and save the plant

A Bay Weekly reader recently complained that her magnificent large rhododendron was dying after it had produced a super abundance of blooms this spring. After examining the plants closely, I knew that the cause of death was Phytophtora cactorum. This disease is often the primary cause for rhododendron dieback. It kills the plants starting at the ends of the branches, and works its way down the stem. If you can prune out the dying branches as soon as you spot it, you can often salvage the plant.
    To identify the disease, look for chestnut-brown sunken cankers surrounding the stem immediately beneath the wilting flower. The stem just beneath the wilted flower or seed head will be green, but the lower part of that stem, where it had grown from the previous year’s stem, will be chestnut brown. You will note that the diseased stem originated near the stem that flowered the previous year.
    The disease-causing fungi entered the stem as the old flowers wilted and dropped. Sometimes one or two branches are first affected. When this occurs, prune away the branch as close to the main stem as possible, sterilizing your pruners with rubbing alcohol between each cut. To prevent the disease from spreading, spray the plants with a mild fungicide such as Phaltan or Captan as the blossoms begin to wilt. However, fungicides are only a temporary protection.  
    The occurrence of this disease has been associated with low levels of magnesium in the soil. If you have rhododendrons that exhibit any signs of dieback, I strongly recommend you have the soil tested.
    When taking soil samples from around shallow-rooted plants such as azaleas and rhododendrons, only sample from the upper three inches of soil. Ninety percent of roots from shallow-rooted species grow in that layer. Soil samples should be taken between the drip line of the branches and the trunk of the plant. Scrape away mulch before sampling.
    Where this disease has been a problem, I recommend applying Epsom salts at the rate of one-half cup dissolved in two gallons of water and applied over 100 square feet. Apply every spring just before the plants start blooming.
    To my knowledge, there are no rhododendron varieties that are immune to this disease. The best protection is frequent inspection of the new stems, pruning out diseased branches using sterile pruners, spraying infected plants as the blossoms are wilting and falling and proper nutrition following soil testing by a reputable lab such as A&L Eastern Agricultural Lab.


Ask Dr. Gouin your questions at DR.FRGouin@gmail.com. Please include your name and address.

The best time to fish is when they’re biting

The forecast called for rain, but the weather people had proven so inaccurate the last few weeks that we gave the pronouncement little notice. We promised that if Saturday morning broke with anything close to moderate air we were heading out, as we did.
    My buddy and I had also decided to leave the rockfish to the weekenders. A few barely legal stripers were not what we were looking for. We yearned for some sustained pole bending.
    I’d been given a heads-up on good white perch action on the edge of a not-too-distant river channel, and we decided to try that. Perch this year have been surprisingly absent, at least for us. Almost all of our usually reliable spots have been empty of fish of any size.
    We started off working the river shoreline, throwing Rooster Tails and Capt. Bert’s Perch Pounder spinner baits in the shallows, around erosion jetties, docks and next to flooded phragmites, areas that had always been hangouts of at least a few 11-inch blackbacks. We scored exactly one nine-inch perch in an hour.
    Unsurprised we headed out for the deeper channel waters and reached for the worms. Reciting a silent prayer to the fish gods and rigging with top and bottom rigs and flashy size 2 red nickel bait holder hooks, we added an ounce of lead, threaded on generous pieces of worm, and dropped them over the side.
    Our skiff was pushed slowly along the channel edge by a gentle breeze and a barely moving tide. Our rods bent over almost into the water as both of us cranked up double headers of white perch.
    Dropping our rigs back over resulted again in instantly bent rods, again loaded with double headers. Then again and yet again it happened. Our faces were beaming; we were apparently right in the middle of the meat bucket. The now heavily clouded skies could not dampen the glow of great action.
    When a light mist began, we hardly noticed. Though the whities were on the small side and we had lots of throwbacks, the action was non-stop. Gradually our cooler accumulated a few nice keepers.
    The rain soon got steadier and heavier. But with fishing like that, we donned our foul-weather gear and soldiered on. We weren’t sure when the winds would return or these perch would vanish, so we were taking no chances. The best time to fish is when they’re biting.
    The bite stayed red-hot. Even as it poured down hard, we remained enthusiastic. Our count was well past 100 and our hands were sore and torn from the many gill plate cuts and fin spikes in handling the wriggling devils when we at last exhausted our bait supply.
    Later that evening, after a long, hot shower and a glass of brandy, I reflected on the success of the trip, describing to my wife the mad fishing action and the endless downpour.
    She merely nodded her head. When I asked if she thought we were crazy, my spouse replied, “Why no dear, why in the world would anyone think that?”

Southern migration underway

Say good-bye to an osprey — if you can find one. My neighborhood nests are all empty and their eerie whistle waded into memory.
    Beginning in mid-August, the fish hawks left their summer homes all along the Eastern seaboard for winter grounds in the Caribbean, Central and South America.
    Where osprey go we know from the work of osprey followers like Rob Bierregaard, who has tagged with transmitters birds all along the coast.
    Migration of his tagged birds began on August 14, one day short of the earliest migration date.
    Snowy, the first to head south, “was a bird on a mission,” Bierregaard writes. “She arrived back at her wintering area in northern Cuba just eight days after she left her staging area in Long Island.”
    Not all migrating osprey make a beeline. Many circle and dally for weeks at good fishing grounds.
    Doing things “the normal way” was Crabby, a young female osprey tagged by Bierregaard.
    “From Kent Island in Chesapeake Bay, she started south on August 25 at 10:55am,” he wrote. “She spent her first night at Kerr Lake on the Virginia-North Carolina border. Next stop was the Congaree Swamp just north of Lake Marion in South Carolina. She blew through Georgia and spent the night of the 28th in northern Florida and made it to the Everglades in southern Florida on the 29th.
    “That was the last we’ve heard from her, but this is pretty typical of our cell-tower birds. From here on, they can make it to South America without being near a cell tower (the only way we hear from them). We’ve had birds that we last heard from on the eastern coast of the U.S. in the fall only to have them show up again the next spring. But we’ve also had a remarkable number of cell-tower birds find towers in Haiti and down deep in South America.”
    Learn about migrating osprey and follow the migration at www.ospreytrax.com.

The Maryland Renaissance Festival has more cars than 16th-century England

Ye olde good times flow in the reimagined 16th-century English village of Revel Grove in the Maryland Renaissance Festival’s 30th season at Crownsville. In the festival’s nine-weekend season from late August to mid-October, itinerate festival craftspeople live at Revel Grove and tens of thousands of visitors drive in to play make believe.
    The popular festival is outgrowing its 25 acres at Revel Grove. After several years of searching, festival owners chose a 238-acre farm about 20 miles south in rural Lothian in Southern Anne Arundel County.
    Whether the move happens hinges on roads. Getting to the new site requires special exceptions to county zoning on two issues:
    1. “Access to a Renaissance Festival shall be provided directly from an arterial road.”
    2. A “Renaissance Festival located in an RA district shall be located on a road other than a scenic or historic rural road.”
    The variances were refused this summer by a county zoning officer. The Festival appealed. This month and next, public hearings are underway, in preparation for a decision by Anne Arundel’s Board of Appeals.
    Just what roads would traffic follow if the Maryland Renaissance Festival rebuilds Revel Grove at the junction of Anne Arundel, Calvert and Prince George’s counties?
    Inspired by the research of Bonnie Sudnick of Churchton, we took a look at the existing and proposed roads.
    Maryland Rt. 4 is the arterial road approaching the new location.
    Maryland Rt. 4, speed limit 55mph, runs as Pennsylvania Avenue from Washington, D.C., to Upper Marlboro. The freeway crosses the Patuxent River at Hills Bridge, where a bridge has existed since 1855. It enters Anne Arundel County at Wayson’s Corner, taking the name Southern Maryland Boulevard. Turning southeast, the road intersects the western terminus of Rt. 258, Bay Front Road, at the village of Bristol. By now, it’s traveling through country.
    Beyond the Rt. 258 intersection, Rt. 4 turns south and downgrades into a four-lane, at-grade, divided highway. At the Calvert County line shortly below, it interchanges with the northwestern terminus of Rt. 260 at Lyons Creek, then continues south.
    Between the interchanges at Rts. 258 and 260 is ground zero.
    Between them are Upper Pindell Road, the Festival’s potential new address, and its southern partner, Lower Pindell Road.
    Both lead to where the Renaissance Festival wants to be. But you can’t get there from either. That’s because both are “scenic and historic roads,” protected from heavy traffic.
    So how do you get there? Sudnick reports from the first two appeal hearings earlier this month:
    The state road witness stated that “traffic would make a right-hand turn onto the access road” that leads from Rt. 4 to Upper Pindell Road — to be followed by an immediate left turn and finally a right turn into the property. This pattern in theory would avoid use of Upper Pindell Road.
    Traffic outbound on Upper Pindell would have to make a left turn onto the access road and travel either to the next stop sign to make a right onto Rt. 4 South … Or cross over at Talbott Road to go left onto Rt. 4 North … Or continue to the Rt. 258 interchange.
    “The proposed exit from the Renaissance Festival will,” Sudnick continues, “have traffic going south toward Calvert County to go north on Rt. 4.” The turnarounds can be made by “sliding left to make a U-turn at Lower Pindell Road or going under the Rt. 260 overpass to make a U-turn.”
    Those are the facts, folks, confounding as they are.

Sandra Olivetti Martin
Editor and publisher; editor@bayweekly.com

A pair of planetary pairings

The waning moon rises in the late evening at week’s end and is high in the southwest with the approach of the rising sun. Each night it rises a half-hour later, so that by last-quarter on the 15th it crests the northeast horizon at midnight.
    The moon Saturday night and Sunday before dawn shines a few degrees below the smallest of the three celestial dippers: the Pleiades star cluster. This grouping of stars marks the shoulder of Taurus the bull and is a few degrees to the northwest of Aldebaran, the bull’s red eye. Aldebaran marks one end of another star cluster within Taurus, the Hyades, which is the V-shape of the bull’s face.
    Monday before dawn the moon trails just a few degrees behind Aldebaran. Early morning Tuesday the moon shines less than 10 degrees above Betelgeuse, the shoulder of Orion the hunter.
    Far to the east of Orion is Jupiter, which rises around 3:30am and is high overhead as daybreak approaches. By that time you might be able to spot Venus low against the horizon. The Morning Star is exponentially brighter than Jupiter, but so close to the horizon and the approaching sun that you may need binoculars to pick her out of the haze. Aligned halfway from Venus to Jupiter is Regulus, the blue-white heart of Leo the lion.    
    The other two planets visible to the unaided eye, Mars and Saturn, form a line of their own with the star Antares to the southwest in the evening sky. The two planets shine at nearly the same magnitude, but their colors make it easy to tell them apart. Not so with Antares, whose name literally translates to Rival of Mars. The red heart of Scorpius is farther to the east and is not as bright as the red planet. In the coming days Saturn sinks ever closer to the horizon, while Mars gains ground moving to the east. By month’s end Mars will be just a few degrees from Antares.
    Summer may be on the wane, but the season’s stars still command the evening sky. As the sun sets, look directly overhead for the zero-magnitude star Vega in the constellation Lyra. By 10pm first-magnitude Deneb, the head of Cygnus the swan, has taken the perch atop the celestial zenith. South of Vega and Deneb is Altair, the eye of the eagle Aquila, and the third point in the Summer Triangle.

Two comedians prove dining out is an art

Comedians Steve Coogan (Philomena) and Rob Brydon (Underdogs) aren’t really friends, but they converse well together. Following up on a successful series of restaurant reviews (covered in The Trip), they translate the series to Italy.
    From the moment they squeeze into their rented Mini Cooper, competition kicks in. Through six sumptuous meals, the comedians war over who does the best impressions, has the least satisfying home life and the better career.
    On paper, it doesn’t sound like a riveting film, but director Michael Winterbottom (The Look of Love) proves that good dinner conversation is an art.
    Like the first Trip film, The Trip to Italy is actually a summation of a British television show, editing six episodes into a nearly two-hour film.
    Playing exaggerated versions of themselves, Coogan and Brydon are brilliant at playing up their worst traits for comedy. Brydon makes himself desperate for attention and deeply insecure about his regional fame compared to Coogan’s wider stardom. He can’t turn off. Even alone in his room or on the phone with his wife, he whirls through impressions. He is exhausting to watch, but there’s tragedy in a man so afraid of being himself.
    Coogan uses smugness as a shield against his insecurities. He presents himself as an international celebrity, adored in America, partly to twist the blade in his pal Brydon and partly to disguise the fact that he’s lonely and dissatisfied with his career. When Brydon mentions a career triumph, Coogan becomes so despondent he loses interest in the competition.
    In spite of the two actors’ sometimes prickly interactions, there’s magic whenever they converse. Seeking to top each other, they speed through a flurry of impressions and improvisations. It’s hilarious. The moments when Coogan and Brydon manage to crack each other up are best of all.
    The Trip to Italy isn’t a movie for the popcorn crowd. But if you’re in the market for a fascinating look into the mind of a comedian and some inspired cuisine, you’ll adore the second helping of this series.

Good Dramedy • NR • 108 mins.

Plumbing the depths of change

“Our world changed yesterday,” I wrote on September 12, 2001. “Like you, we’ll be a long time plumbing the depths of this change.”
    Thirteen years later, the blue clarity of September 11, 2001 — before 8:46am — seems a farewell look at innocence. Adam and Eve might have seen just such radiance in the Garden of Eden as its gate shut them out.
    It’s a nice image, and there’s some truth in it. Certainly the new millennium seemed to promise a clean start. Certainly this absolute penetration of our defenses was not within our expectations. Certainly we have never felt the same since. Nowadays optimism is in scarce supply.
    Some truth, only. As a nation and as individuals, we had lost our innocence many times before 9/11 — in wars and faulty peace, in slavery and Indian oppression, at Pearl Harbor and Gettysburg, in depressions and assassinations.
    But still some truth. Before, we Americans started things — or we finished the work others were unable to complete. We took this land and settled it. We put our shoulders to the task. We invented and aspired. We lent our might to ending two world wars. We flew around the world and to the moon.
    Since 9/11, we have become a nation of first responders. Our dearest heroes are the firefighters and police who rose to the unprecedented occasions of that terrible day — and the soldiers who followed in their footsteps.
    Since that day, we have been mopping up mounting woes.
    In the Middle East, where outrage begets outrage, we wage our own wars and try to throw our weight on the side of justice — wherever that may be — in the wars of others. We’ve killed Osama bin Laden, but the sorcerer’s apprentices are rising up, lately the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria. Two American journalists beheaded is not the World Trade Towers. But it is enough.
    In the East, the ice left over from the Cold War is breaking. Russia’s hungry bear is reawakening. China is threatening us not with communism but with clever frauds and computer hacks.
    Here at home, nearly every aspect of life seems in turmoil: police armed for Homeland Security … the old economy trashed before a new one is created … cities bankrupt … infrastructure crumbling … schools leaving children behind … immigrants crashing the borders … health care in divisive crisis … waste — from nuclear to plastic — engulfing us … climate change threatening to drop the bomb.
    And now our America seems the only world force big enough to take on Ebola in Africa.
    So yes, some truth. For all we’d seen and done before 9/11, we still had innocence to lose and experience to gain.
    I read Hillary Clinton this past Sunday, writing in the Washington Post about the new book by her predecessor as secretary of state, World Order by Henry Kissinger.
    “There really is no viable alternative,” she wrote, speaking of “the indispensability of continued American leadership in service of a just and liberal order.
    “No other nation can bring together the necessary coalitions and provide the necessary capabilities to meet today’s complex global threats.”
    How much that role costs may be a lesson of each generation. Certainly it’s one lesson we’ve learned since September 11, 2001.

Sandra Olivetti Martin
Editor and publisher; editor@bayweekly.com