Jim Davis/Boston Globe staff.
New England experienced some exquisite, exciting, and potentially perilous storms this week.
I expected them…because of the birds. Continue reading
Hail Hail to Bird Calls
A Dawn Dilemma from A to Z
A few minutes after dawn, I notice some movement outside my window.
Because it’s summer, with flowers blooming wildly and birds singing as if there’s no tomorrow, I assume some kind of wildlife has entered my yard.
Cracking open the back door, I peek out. Despite my admiration for foxes and wild turkeys, I don’t necessary want to tiptoe out into the yard and run into any family squabbles. Continue reading
The Son Also Rises
I look at him across the table, thinking, who is he? Who is this tall, intense, handsome, stiff, strange man sitting with me at La Provence, eating his asparagus quiche daintily as if it were made of flower pedals?
I’ve known him for more than 30 years – intimately – and I truly have not a clue who he is. It was so much easier, when he was my baby boy, and even when he was a burgeoning almost-teenager, still giving me hard hugs at night. He told me stories about his war games with his best friend back then, and his dreams of being an importer/exporter, even though he had no idea what that meant. He was chubby, with a wonderful chuckle and a dimple as wide as a dime. Continue reading
Summertime Tub Reading
I secretly enjoy reading in the bathtub.
I escape, undetected, as the hot steamy water begins to fill the tub.
All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr
As I squeeze some lavender bath foam into the spray of water, I light the small candle hiding in the corner of the large, deep tub. Continue reading
A Rough Ride
I take the train from Boston to Delaware to visit my mom. Anything is better than flying, I figure. Plus, I can watch the pastoral East Coast scenery whiz by, in my romanticized notion of riding the rails.
I pack five books, my laptop, and three short story rough drafts. After all, I have more than six hours to write or read with no interruption.
Heaven!
When was the last time you rode a train? Do you remember the bouncing and jouncing, the rolling and jerking one mile to the next to the next…?
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