A breeze barely enough to lift leaves on the liquid amber—this September began warm with increasing temperatures to come. Unlike Septembers of my youth, shopping the pages of Sears & Roebuck and JC Penney for back-to-school clothes. Talley-Ho sweaters with

Sitting on the hot tub step this morning with coffee, I looked down at my legs and smiled. Thank you, legs, I said, thank you for carrying me all these many years–from my first wobbly steps to riding my tricycle

Most of us have heard the cry of a hawk, that piercing call that signals the sharp-eyed raptor is high above, circling in search of dinner—a little mouse scurrying for cover or a small grey hare. This spring, a pair nested

I squeeze the lavender wool, knead it with my paws as my little cats do—soft and clean now, dyed the most lovely shade of lavender, no lanolin left—and I’m standing in the chute of my uncle Lynn’s sheep barn as

Have you ever read something that affected you so strongly that you couldn’t shake it? Something that gripped your heart and brought you to the depths of sadness? This is what stories about animals, or sea creatures in peril, do

Wandering about my backyard yesterday evening, I discovered a scattering of downy feathers—a worrisome number—clinging to needles beneath the redwoods.  There were a few grayish-blue feathers, too. There was no body, only feathers. Had my tomcat done this? A hawk? 

There’s a little yellow house set back in the trees near a lake; it’s rundown and available for a song. I just need to find it. The front porch sags a bit, but the bones are strong and the black

As afternoon grew chilly with a light wind in from the east, I warmed a towel in the dryer for Rocky’s nap and headed for the hot tub. Sometimes, in late afternoon, things show up. For the longest time, I

Every time I drive up to my house, I expect to see Rosie come running across the neighbor’s lawn, making a beeline to her feeding area. For two years this was how it was. Rosie was “displaced” for lack of

Everything soft, cushioned by low grey fog. I sit immersed in warm water in our side-yard hot tub, coffee in hand. And listen. High above the clouds Sandhill cranes trill, invisible. The sycamore’s branches stretch up into the soft sky,