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The sign read “huzzah & welcome.” We walked through the gate and found ourselves in a whole new time and place—the village of Hollygrove in the 16th century. A small group of medieval singers greeted us. Knights and pirates and squires and maidens and men in kilts...
I’m sitting in a wrought iron chair on the back patio, cupping a mug of coffee while tendrils of steam dissipate in the crisp fall air. I spend more time out here lately. We have two new puppies, Havanese litter-mates--Susanna and Wesley. The female’s half the...
Jealousy is one of the occupational hazards of being a writer, and the most degrading. And I, who have been the Leona Helmsley of jealousy, have come to believe that the only things that help ease or transform it are (a) getting older, (b) talking about it until the...
I almost missed it, but it’s been one of those weeks, and the very last proverbial bump-in-the-road is a 2-inch incision with eleven stitches across the back of my shoulder. Rest and don’t get hot and sweaty, the doctor tells me. Down here at the edge of the hot and...
Neither Abby nor I feel good, but summer’s winding down, and we’ve set...
Dear Heavy Heart, I know you. I know your dark dread that rests heavy like a...
Dear God, There is a way in which I sometimes I felt a sense of belonging....
My parents moved from the Detroit area to buy four small rustic cabins on a...
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