Blog

The green bowl

Once, a Redwing pottery mixing bowl was given to a young woman by an older woman she loved, respected and feared. At first the young woman didn’t much care for the bowl; it was thick, uneven, hairline cracks here and there. This was a long time ago, when the young woman didn’t appreciate thickness and … Continue reading The green bowl

The Perfect Food

Consider the dumpling, if you will. In all its incarnations – fried, steamed or boiled – it is the food of my dreams. In Taipei, in 1981, you could buy them for a penny apiece – yes, that’s $.01 apiece – and I ate them every day in a dumpling restaurant in Food Alley, where … Continue reading The Perfect Food

In the Bleak Midwinter

A Place that Wants Only to Take You away from everything you know into everything that was known. You and your sisters, clutching berry boxes. Brambles next to the pond, canes yearning over the creek. Blackberries, thick tapered bodies like bumble bees, darker than blue. Work your way down the creek without knowing. Drift away … Continue reading In the Bleak Midwinter

To Cross a Street

  You were driving down the street toward your house when you saw a giant turtle at the crosswalk with a long stick protruding from his shell. For some reason, the sight of a giant turtle struggling to cross the street in the middle of the coldest January you can remember didn’t strike you as … Continue reading To Cross a Street

Wood Stupor

Here is a 250-year-old house in upstate New York.  Go on in and, if you dare, open the door that leads to the cellar. That’s right, cellar – no basement here. Make your way down the creaking steps, if you dare, and peer into the darkness, but since you probably don’t dare (and I don’t … Continue reading Wood Stupor

My Igloo

My plan is to build an igloo in my backyard. I will build it according to specifications downloaded from the internet, and I will do an excellent job, so that my igloo is airtight, solidly constructed, and worthy of occupation for the next few months. My igloo will be warm, because that’s what igloos are, … Continue reading My Igloo