Gather 'round…
So I've had about enough of this guy: I know, the picture doesn't really give you anything to be immediately irate about. Seemed no matter the angle, I couldn't show how very flat half of that hosta is. So anyway, it's flat. Why? Because we've got a coon that likes to visit at night and... Continue Reading →
There she is. And there am I, peeking out from m'office. I'm trying to avoid the living room. Why? Because the Last Kid Standing is reading my book, and there is little more terrifying than watching someone read your book. Let me back up... I've been working on this book for a goodly long time.... Continue Reading →
I've been home for a week. I will be honest and tell you that I've only now finally landed. When I travel with the whole of the household, on our many trips through tents and campgrounds and parks a-plenty, I settle back in pretty easily. I unpack like my hair's on fire, I suck in... Continue Reading →
I watched The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society again recently. Before the Christmas movie marathons began.* It is still one of my favorite books, Guernesy. And the Netflix movie does it considerable justice, which is more than I can say of most books turned movies. I think I've seen the flick three or... Continue Reading →
121. Is that too many pictures of one vacation for one blog post? 121? I mean, a full 10 of them are of lichen, and there are at least two snowmen in there. I think it's good, right? Commence photojournalism spree... First of all, ya'll can rest your minds from working out that kid rotation... Continue Reading →
The rains are here this morning. Somehow this is perfect. There is a certain urgency I have in spring when the sun emerges and the weather is warm enough to just sit in that sun and read a book. There is something inside that scolds me if I’m not taking advantage of as much of... Continue Reading →
Snow shadows from the Hoffman Hills Tower yesterday March 24Even in the DarkTo be broken is no reasonto see all things as brokenSeldom seen, growing along the ocean floor, the white plumed anemone is a watery blossom. It is white lace opening under tons of black, opening as if bathed in the sun, while so... Continue Reading →
I’ve been crashing through Gerald Durrell’s My Family and Other Animals. Crashing because it is good, and I'm loving it, and because I’m thrilled to have finally discovered Durrell’s voice as an adult, but also--possibly--because it is nine days overdue and I'm feeling like a felon. I wonder if I’m the only president of a... Continue Reading →
OK, OK... I've given in to the word of 2020. It’s not like it’s been honking horns and gonging gongs all around me and I’ve been resistant. It’s not like there aren’t other good candidates. I’m not even sure this is the best one. But it is the one that has been quietly persistent through... Continue Reading →
This is it for the cutout cookies. I have brought them with me to the keyboard in order to end the madness. I have eaten so many Christmas cookies in the past week that I, as is customary for late December, feel like I, too, may be made of nothing but dough and heat. What's... Continue Reading →
I vacuumed under my couch cushions this morning. Da clean couch You see, last weekend one of the adult kiddos was here with a visiting friend. Said friend spent most of the weekend on my couch, relaxing from her hellish semester at college, staring blankly at her phone, and digging her stockinged feet in between... Continue Reading →
What is it about time with certain authors that makes me want to write? Anne Lamott. Geneen Roth (kinda). Mike Perry. Looking at the list du jour, it seems that those who make me want to write are those who write like me, or those whom I want to write like, and on my better... Continue Reading →
