The Rennie Farm
The farm was going, almost gone. It was time for me to visit, although visiting at the dying end of the year would be a bitter, tender moment.
A selection of creative nonfiction essays on nature, culture, and place.
The farm was going, almost gone. It was time for me to visit, although visiting at the dying end of the year would be a bitter, tender moment.
Equality for all.
Now the storm was all around us, flashing and crackling as great trunks of white fire boomed down into the driveway. Then—I smell smoke.
Living with a companion animal yields both boundless joy and exquisite sadness. Both are vital.
I see the world through a drinking straw. Only the smallest shards of light and life make it through to my eye. But there’s a payoff if I keep looking.
uppose you’ve just moved into a new house, and you get a note from a friend asking how you’re doing. You could say that…
“Hell Brook Trail. Classification DDD – Extremely Difficult. The trail climbs steeply to the ridge, frequently on precipitous ledges. Descending the trail is not recommended.”
“Isn’t it interesting who you meet when you travel?”
Writing is an internal process—but it is not merely internal.
When I was young I modeled for a life drawing class. Who was that person then, and who is she now?
esterday: Christmas day. The highlight, much more than the jollity of presents and family and music, was the companionship, throughout the day, of a…