Stepping into a river of dream
Thirty-five thousand feet above the Atlantic I jump-start our Irish adventure by reading Inishbream, Theresa Kishkan’s novella born of her own time in Ireland years ago.…
Reading room
It’s long past time to write a new post. I’ve been immersed in writing other things. And reading reading reading. I hit a bonanza recently outside…
Words guaranteed to raise a few queer eyebrows
I’m not on Twitter (nor will I ever be, after reading Jon Ronson’s So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed) so it’s a fluke I even saw this…
String and silence, entwined
Carin at Matilda Magtree illustrated her recent post about how to write seasonally unaffected greeting cards with her photographs of Judith Scott’s amazing fibre sculptures.* The…
The sasquatch up behind my house
Some friends hiked up the north slope behind our place a few weeks ago. When they came back down, they told us they thought a sasquatch might…
Staying put with pomegranates
For years I have placed pomegranates around my house: here and there, on windowsills, on my desk, on my altar. They are reminders sparked by a…
Rumi showed up in last Tuesday’s mail, twice
Out here in the bush we pick up our mail once a week, on Tuesdays, when LW drives into town to deliver eggs. It’s always an…
Resolution: To write you no more
I mentioned the other day that I don’t make New Year’s resolutions anymore, but if I did, Maria Popova offers a list of suggested resolutions that…
Quilted sunflowers
This is the semi-Amish quilt I bought at the annual Amish auction in Rexford, Montana, in 1995. True Amish quilts don’t use printed fabrics, only solids,…
I am dying
April fish. But wait, it’s no joke. Of course I’m dying. So are you. We are all dying, right from the moment we are born, and…