April is the cruelest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. T. S. Eliot The coming of April teases the gardener in me. I long to sink glove deep into the warming loam. Yet a fresh skiff of snow spoils the mood. Cheerless breezes … More April Is The Cruelest Month
I feed the birds that winter over on our property. The vast majority are Oregon juncos, a humble ground forager with rust colored shoulders and a head hooded in black. They are joined by a single lost song sparrow and a mob of noisy blue jays. I use makeshift feeding stations. One is the ground next … More Feeding The Birds
I’m a pre-dawn rambler, often rising before the sun. I roam through the house, trailed by my nocturnal buddy, Buckwheat, a domestic shorthair cat. She crows noisily until I complete the ritual of feeding and speaking to her with fawning sincerity. Then and only then, she allows me to brew coffee and sit at my … More Lobo
Recently, a friend asked me what I do with my time. When I tried to describe a typical day, I laughed. The reason is because I do a whole lot of nothing. This reminds me of a Buddhist joke. A disciple of the Dalai Lama gave him a present for his birthday. Upon unwrapping the … More Much Ado About Nothing
Yesterday, my youngest son, Isaac, proposed to his girlfriend Nikki. Meanwhile, I am being the model patient. I limit my socializing; my outings to shop are brief. I wipe clean the handle of the grocery cart before using. I’m careful about not shaking hands or hugging friends. This aspect of recovery comes easy for me. … More I Do!
Good Blood, Bad Blood 