Authors in the Park, Sunday August 24th, 2025

  A writing prompt this week posed the question, "What would you do if you weren't afraid?" This was the encouragement I needed to contact the organizer of next Sunday's event and ask if I could set up a table. And bring my books. "Yes indeed," was Bill King's gracious reply. Hmm, being brave is a good thing.

Let me bring you some...

Today I'm picking flowers, arranging them in a porcelain vase, and shamelessly paraphrasing p. 62 of my book. 

When we moved to this house, Pam noticed a poorly-lit area that was bare, except for a few weeds that had the potential and network of roots to dominate. "Let me bring you some lily of the valley," she offered.

She did, and every spring I remember that kindness. And her.

Adding to the loss playlist

I'm rearranging the sidebars on the blog this morning; moving the loss playlist to a more prominent place to better reflect the mood given the recent passing, yup death, of my editor-encourager Blossom. There's nothing like a dog beside a desk to make sure there are frequent breaks and forest walks; to provide a necessary balance for all that time spent in one's head. With each significant loss in my life (usually people but sometimes pets), a song has arrived; sometimes on the radio while driving, or recommended by a friend, today the next selection for a choir. It's played on repeat and plants itself deep within the loss compartment that holds, well, everything hard. 

If you are a dog person, or are trying to understand the dog people you know, take a look at Dog Days in Mosaic Through East-Facing Glass. The essay entitled Stitching was written after that book was published; get in touch with me if you'd like to read it.

Demolition - Fall 2024

There used to be a church at the corner of Main St. West and Cline Ave. North in Hamilton. Watching it be, well, demolished, prompted a personal essay. A short version was published and is available online; a longer version is available to any who asks...