August 15, 2022

The light of August seeps into paper, weaves into the forest as vibrant as ignited confetti. A crow perches on a high cedar and calls into the air, half- song, half-scathing commentary. In the still heat of summer, memory simmers and shines: an oasis created out of worn books, crumpled letters, and tree forts swaying… Read More


August 7, 2022

Inscribing a list keeps me on my toes. Basic rules when generating a list: go big, be expansive, accept failure as part of the equation, and always use a pencil with a good eraser! Categories: books read, books I’m longing to read, books that must be re-read. Destinations…hmm…possibilities Goals (this is where the eraser comes… Read More


August 1, 2022

Summer palette deepens. The road curves toward home, overgrown and dusty. Notebooks fill up like baskets full of dry and fragrant kindling. I watch as hummingbirds thrum by – feathered kinetic energy. Studying cloud wisps, I imagine myself reclining on a raft, bobbing through a distant August day. It is delightful to be in multiple… Read More


April 24, 2021

Reflections on a Pandemic Spring leading into Summer: “What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.” John Steinbeck, Travels With Charley: In Search of America   Opposites.   In The Mahabharata there are many references to the pairing of opposites. Winter ends and spring begins. There are… Read More


February 24, 2021

“To observe attentively is to remember distinctly.” Edgar Allan Poe WINTER SHARDS My earliest memories are composed of winter shards. On frosty mornings, cradling a cup of coffee and gazing through ice rime on the window, I conjure a late winter. Within the internal reel of episodic memory I view slabs of ice that beach… Read More


February 16, 2021

Ice is unstable, unpredictable. A sheen of crystal can cause tires to spin out. The surface of a frozen lake can give way. On a cold Pacific Northwest day, wind chill kicks up a notch and I am reminded of past winters and higher latitudes. Today the Writer Elkhound’s keen eyes track crows half-flying, half-blown… Read More


February 2, 2021

Some words are steep. A cliff edge that dares the speaker to leap. Other words bubble to the surface when you cannot sleep. Or are found pressed like flowers between the pages in memory’s hefty book. Words can be spice or icing, a fortress wall that repels or a sound that entices. Wherever they come… Read More


January 24, 2021

A dusting of snowfall transports me to distant winters and the stillness of early mornings at the edge of a wilderness. The whisper and long shhhhhhhhh of skis on new snow. Impending weather and the stillness between acts. Winter sky that is the blue of yearning. drifting Clear light glints, collects, worries loose long ice… Read More


January 17, 2021

“All my life I’ve looked at words as though I were seeing them for the first time.” Ernest Hemingway Brimming with New Year’s resolutions, I find most of them have to with words. I continue to work on a novel that is nearly where it needs to be, on the illustrations and text of a… Read More


January 2, 2021

“I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape – the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn’t show.” Andrew Wyeth The wind folded, ice creased leaves. Summer leftovers. Lingering green ripples beneath a spangling of chill stars. I savor this… Read More