Portland
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A long way from home.
Can there possibly be a greater American juxtaposition: Portland, Maine to Las Vegas, Nevada? But then Las Vegas (I feel weird calling it Vegas, we’re not that close) makes for a stark comparison to most any other place. I had to go, yes, had to go, to Las Vegas to attend to some last-minute–and unexpected–business. Continue reading
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A Call From the Fog
We’ve had a couple days of snow. And more falling. Maggie and I were, as always, on the Eastern Prom this morning, post-holing our way along (why did I give away my snowshoes?) and I heard the call of the fog horn from the bay. The sound rolled in from the South. I thought perhaps Continue reading
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The Polar Express
When did we lose that? Continue reading
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Casco Bay, Maggie, and a Winter Storm.
“It is easy to forget that in the main we die only seven times more slowly than our dogs.” ~ Jim Harrison, The Road Home I’ve written of the Harrison quote before. I haunts me. I am a dog person. That is only part of it. I am also acutely aware of, dare I say?, Continue reading
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Forty degrees at seven o’clock
It’s Sunday and morning, my favorite time of the day (“light so low upon the Earth…Oh, the woods and the meadows…” wrote Tennyson). It’s chilly, forty degrees, and Maggie and I stretch out our walk and head down the Prom, abreast of the water, as the sun breaks through the clouds. There are two German Continue reading
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What is to be done?
I came to Maine with great expectations. There was the writing that has never been granted the proper time; and the reading, short stints deserving more. The thinking. The meditation. And everything else. I have been here two months. Most of that, the great expectation agenda, has fallen by the wayside. And I wrestle with Continue reading
...the house I live in... 