October days

Fall has been bright and shiny, skies cornflower blue, maples golden. The Mountain Ash glow all shades of rich persimmon as the leaves stay tight on the trees, and Fire Bushes burn red. There’s a sharpness to the air that invigorates and goes straight to your brain when you’re out walking. It is so clear…

Writers’ conference

A couple of Octobers ago, before the Great Closing, my Sibs sent me to a writers’ conference in Edmonds, Washington for a big Decade-Birthday present. I was so excited to go, as I’d heard so much about Write On the Sound. The setting was beautiful—Puget Sound stretching blue before us as we sat high on…

“Dover Beach”

Dover Beach—Matthew Arnold (...to his new bride, 1851) The sea is calm tonight. The tide is full, the moon lies fair Upon the straits; on the French coast the light Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand, Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay. Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!…

Apples in fall

Our old apple trees are gnarled and knobby, misshapen with missing limbs. Only a few remain. They produce a small green red-blushed apple. I line the most perfect of them up on the kitchen windowsill, enamored with their beauty in the splash of afternoon sun. Wealthy and McIntosh, the fruit has become smaller over time,…

Poetry class

What did you use to do that fed your soul? It was my last year at UCSD. Two long twelve-hour days each week down in San Diego. Busy young family life at home. I tried to keep mornings normal the days I wasn’t in school—making breakfast, packing lunches, fluffing dirty gym clothes in the dryer…

Still life

When we finally moved to the cabin, it had been nearly twenty years since the birth of this dream. The grand plans for restoration and building were gone. We came with only what would fit in the small space and settled in, waiting to see how our dream would unfold. At first we filled our…

the shift

They left as they’d arrived . . . vehicle by vehicle out the dirt-and-gravel-packed driveway they’d dipped down into a week ago. Tent, boat, kayak, paddleboards, bikes, duffle bags and towels, computers, coolers with huckleberries and cookie dough tucked inside—all stowed in the back, trailered, or on top. Pilot sits tall in his backseat, window…

So I begin

“Never write about a place until you’re away from it, because it gives you perspective…”—Ernest Hemingway February 2021 It might seem strange to start a blog about life in our cabin on Flathead Lake the very months of the year we are not at the cabin. But it’s a simple story, not unlike that of…