by John Kass | © 2021 John Kass
This is the most difficult column I’ve written in all my years at the Chicago Tribune.
I’m typing it at a table in our new garden with Zeus the Wonder Dog at my side after a summer morning rain.
There are roses, and tomatoes, cucumbers reaching for the trellis. And Greek basil in clay pots, just as it was grown thousands of years ago in the days of bronze-tipped spears.