Highway Baptism
Two cowboys in a Ford Ranchero pickup truck stop and tell me I can ride thirty miles to Missoula in the truck’s back bed. There have been no cars for nearly an hour. I think for a nanosecond. Then I take the ride.
Essays
A Moment of Deep Beauty
The elderly woman greeted everyone as though she knew them and gave each a bright smile.
Believing in the Power of the Heart
When my agent asked to see a complete revision of my work-in-progress, I didn’t know whether I could face it again. As with that tangle of cords and cables you stash in the back of your closet just in case you’ll need them, even though you’re not sure what half of them are for, I feared that if I pulled on one cord, the others would tighten into a death knot. How would I ever rewrite the whole book and hand it in on time? Fortunately, I had a plan: I’d apply to Rockvale Writers’ Colony.
Minding the Metaphors
My intention had been to attend a writing retreat, but I suddenly had the feeling that I was actually there to attend a labyrinth retreat.
Glorious Patchwork
My parents weren’t car people, and they adopted a vehicle that only a bootlegger could love.
Winter Solstice
Technically, astronomically, the solstice lasts three days. Time stands still, sort of, before moving in the sun’s favor. So, technically, astronomically, I have two more days in which to dry wood and make a real fire.
