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Category Archives: Memoir
I walked through the canyon this morning in its after-storm chaos. The creek is now a muddy, roaring river, strewn with big chunks of debris. I contemplated crossing where it tumbles over the road by the neighbors’ house, but I … Continue reading
Rain has returned, and in a good way, with intermittent breaks. I’ve been walking up the muddy canyon, listening to the yearned-for liquid sound of running creeks. Everything is green again, and flowing, and growing, and the world is urging … Continue reading
This is Mr. Brownell, and if you had him as a teacher, you were a lucky kid. He always knew that the best classroom of all was the great outdoors, and that the old hands-on skills and fundamental values were … Continue reading
It’s been a long time since I posted to this blog. The good news, though, is that it’s because I’m busy, not because I’m down. I’m getting stronger, feeling hopeful, even working on a book. I’m stepping out, trying new … Continue reading
“The call of water demands a total offering, an inner offering. Water needs an inhabitant. It summons like a fatherland.” Gaston Bachelard I have a patient friend with a swimming pool, and she encouraged me to give swimming another try, … Continue reading
My mother-in-law Nancy planted the orchard in 1982, and she has tended to it for all these years, slowing down only recently. (She is, after all, ninety-three years old; that’s her above in the 1990s.) This year, heat and drought … Continue reading
We took our borrowed tandem out for a ride a few days ago. I tried riding a tandem years ago and didn’t much like it, but many things have changed since then. I climbed on board behind my trusted captain, … Continue reading
I am doing so much better lately, and I’m delirious with gratitude. In the mornings I drink my half-caffeinated coffee, look out at the v of blue sea, feel the summer breeze through open windows, contemplate the lozenges of sunlight … Continue reading
It was already hot when I went for my morning walk up the canyon, wishing I had a buddy, either canine or human. It’s become a routine, looking forward to the shady stretch beneath the oaks, hearing the canyon wren … Continue reading