I liked making stews this time of year. Last year it was the seafood gumbo and Guyanese pepperpot, this year a pork shoulder braised with lemon, green olives and tomatoes. But I’m starting to sense the stews are more appreciated… Read More ›
aging
The sun is the same in a relative way
Not needing to go to school on a Thursday in late November was nice. I remember standing outside the car in the early afternoon noting the sky, the dull lead color but the light no less, heading to my grandparents… Read More ›
The play’s the thing
Once we got into November the year started to droop. Seattle earns its reputation for bad weather in the eleventh month. It’s not just the rain but the wind storms and darkness. Once Halloween’s over we reset the clocks and… Read More ›
Stay (and help me to end the day)
After the storm the streets smelled like Christmas with all the pine needles down. There was a house for sale so it was empty and they kept all the lights on all the time. It looked sad like that, exposed… Read More ›
On Fifth Street
That first apartment in Allentown was the best. Early twentieth century, high ceilings, good woodwork. I lived on the middle of three floors below the owners, an elderly couple who ran a jewelry repair shop downstairs. An old Czech named… Read More ›
Our endless, numbered days
The cougar was more than a cougar, it was a metaphor. A fear of the unknown or being tracked by something immutable, time itself. If it were a Castaneda novel the cougar would be a witch, supernatural. I’d have to… Read More ›
Ripeness
It could have been the sound of the church bells on my early morning walk, going through the last few years of late August memories. Parsing through the past was like looking across a vista, trying to make out what… Read More ›
The dark magic of the garage
The garage was fucked. The garage, that dumping ground for all our excess, for all we could not process or endure. The garage was the physical manifestation of our gluttony and waste. The garage was bombastic in scale: a proud… Read More ›
The days run away like Teslas over the hills
Dawn and I started to see the rest of our lives unfold and it was interconnected with this house, this yard. A matter of ongoing refinement, settling in. I had no business eating this cheese but didn’t want to waste… Read More ›
Sporting Life
There was the sweetest deer and her fawn that had been coming around the yard. But I didn’t want them munching on Dawn’s lace tree so I sprayed it with coyote urine. I used a lot more than I needed… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 