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Author Archives: cynthia
My dear friend Cornelia came very close to losing her house in the Thomas Fire this week. A sequence of text messages and pictures attests to the drama: fear and uncertainty, her husband’s vigilant presence, flames roaring in the hills … Continue reading
I believe that documenting and writing can sometimes help us figure things out, and there’s power in the very act of writing. So I’ve given myself a homework assignment, which is to write about what’s troubling me since the November … Continue reading
Yesterday I walked up the canyon wearing a cowboy hat and a breathing mask, toting a pink bag with a birthday present for our neighbor’s two-year-old daughter. There was something comical about it, but also surreal. The landscape glowed in … Continue reading
The Thomas Fire is raging to the south of us with no end in sight. The air is filled with smoke and ash, and we have friends who have been evacuated. These are anxious times. But until I have some … Continue reading
“We’re in the golden hills!” said one of my walking companions, and indeed we were. Our hike was a twelve mile out-and-back to a place in the San Rafael Wilderness known as Hell’s Half Acre, a boulder-studded field with views of … Continue reading
It was a silvery-rainy Sunday in a country house in Brittany. We were finishing tea, and talking about art and creativity, and I was bemoaning the fact that I don’t know how to do anything. I was saying how much … Continue reading
Late in the day I loaded up some podcasts, grabbed my hat and trusty walking stick, and went for a stroll on the road. The sun was slipping fast into the sea and the light was turning golden, a gentle … Continue reading
I wrote this several years ago, but I’ve decided to share it here on this Thanksgiving. It is the day after Thanksgiving and we have gathered on a wooden pier at the Indian River near Palm Bay Florida in the … Continue reading
He was my brother, and the country of childhood was a tangled one, fraught with discord and shadowed by mystery. Dangers loomed, whether real or imagined, and tranquil moments could not entirely be trusted, for they were as delicate as … Continue reading