The Author's Notebook

Something to work on in 2019... (1) There once was a squirrel named Tybald who played music wherever he travelled. He could sing and could dance and he did so through France keeping the time whilst he fiddled. (2) There once was a cat named Poppell who busked for...

I have a great deal of anxiety for the pumpkin sitting on my front porch. Not because of it—for it. I think of that pumpkin when I’m turning off the lights in the evening.  I think of the pumpkin if I happen to hear an odd sound in the middle of the night. I’ll glance...

Expecting the Yellowstone River to be quick flowing and mostly whitewater, we did not pack along our fishing gear on our Black Canyon hike. This seemed to make great sense because extra weight in the pack means extra work carrying that weight, and, as we expected, the...

My earliest memory is barely a memory. It’s just a series of images intermingled with concepts and emotions. There’s no dialogue, or at least the dialogue is now muffled by time. It’s a slide show of scenes that cycles through with the rest of my earliest memories....