My Dad

In three days, my dad would have turned 80 years old. He died eight years ago. I cannot conceive of him as 80. Even in his dying year, eight years ago, he seemed frail but still too young to die. I’ve written about him often, and I still think about him all the time. He …

Roar

The other morning, after my bear encounter, my husband heard a couple roars out in our back yard. It was early, and I didn’t hear it, and he didn’t get up to look, but I think our bear–and perhaps the sow–may have been back? I find myself constantly looking outside for black bears. On Saturday …

The Desert

Sometimes I miss the desert. I recall raw days full of clarity, where clouds shadowed hills with bold shapes moving ever so slowly over the hot landscape below. I remember endless, big stars hanging in a black night and how the hot Santa Ana winds made everything feel so alive and moving. I remember stepping …

Perception

Last night, we went to see George Orwell’s 1984, which played across North America as a reminder of our humanity vs. surveillance and misinformation by an oligarchy–completely pertinent now because the US government has suddenly clinched into what may become an oligarchy and has become a major source of lies. These lies have received the …