Mark your calendars, dear readers and would-be readers. … [Read more...] about Book Tour!
On an overcast day in the Dolomites, you can forget how high the mountains go. That is, until the clouds snag and tear on their rocky flanks, the peaks poke their heads above the smoke-white mist, and another mountain’s worth of mountain emerges on top of the mountain that already was. … [Read more...] about Rock of Ages
Leaving harbour, the only hint we have of what’s to come is the horizon, which is jagged, as if torn. Arnaud, our skipper, is French from France. Thirty-something and blonde with a sailor’s trim beard, he uses coconut oil to slick his hair into a man-bun and manages, somehow, to pull this off. … [Read more...] about Dangers, At Sea
We went to Andalusia at the wrong time of year and for that we were punished.Punished with a heat so violent, so searing, there was nothing we could do but drink cold, skunky beer by the litre, and between beers, nap. Between beers and naps, I had to summon the stamina and coolheadedness to finish the final revisions on my book. All the broad sweeps suggested by my editor had been tinkered with, the new bits written and rewritten, my rethinks, … [Read more...] about The Ronda Writers Club
The eagle arrived shortly after Mum died, perching in the uppermost branches of the Ponderosa pine across the street and soaring past the kitchen window once or twice per day. She’s not here all the time, but most weeks she visits at least once or twice. Then, when we go to stay at the cabin on the coast the eagle will be there, too, her soulful call echoing around the bay. Once, when one of Mum’s closest friends agreed to hike with me up to … [Read more...] about She Already Knows
On the first March day to feel as if it has Spring tucked like a bouquet behind its back and is twitching to yank it out and surprise us, I take my bike from its winter den. A long hibernation: it has been in the basement leaning dolefully against the patio furniture since my stress fracture last Thanksgiving. The brakes protest against soft tires—an eerie, winnowing sound—as I roll it around the house and up the garden path to the driveway. I … [Read more...] about Happiness, Moving