Foggy morning walks through Soaring Eagle state park. By December the color has drained down to a dull copper with some last yellow in the leaves. The rest of the landscape is green, cloaked in gray. The deep greens of… Read More ›
humor
Primitive forms of passage
Just like our pets I was prone to taking afternoon naps. Naps after lunch were best, more so after pie. I felt like Bilbo Baggins cozying into my cottage right before the dwarves came. Outside there was scant, filtered light,… Read More ›
Dimanche
Time distends when we’re in France. We get up late, stay up late, eat late and we don’t make plans. No one is open for lunch on a Saturday so we order eight pizzas and Laurent gets out the fresh… Read More ›
The continuing story of Bungalow Bill
Rummage around long enough in the grab-bag of memories and you’ll find something strange. This one, a party in college where everyone was in costumes and on LSD: a guy named Don with a sheet of acid dressed like Captain… Read More ›
Waxing gibbous
Friday is a carbon copy of Wednesday with the post-dinner ice cream at the DQ—same order and procedure pulling into the same parking spot, spooning it with the windows down—except on Friday the queer, wildfire smoke sun is back, the… Read More ›
The hissing of summer lawns
I loved bulking up before a big backpacking trip and then eating like a beast afterwards. There was no way to make up for those burned calories but boy I liked trying. My phone gave me an award for setting… Read More ›
Going down the rabbit hole
Just like that, my daily morning routine of walking in Soaring Eagle state park came to an end. Not one, but three signs were posted by the trailhead: recent cougar activity reported. The signs were white with red lettering, all… Read More ›
A different kind of fish
I got to the Marblemount ranger station an hour before it opened, at 6, one other guy in a van with long hair, bearded, already there. They had a Please Take A Number stand and an LED display showing number… Read More ›
Dirty rag
Dawn unemployed, me about to be, Charlotte’s school nearing the end and Lily not working yet, the four of us are often at home dirtying it. Then there is the dog and cat and the kids’ friends leaving their paints… Read More ›
Cheese post
Cheese when it’s starting to go off smells the way I remember the boys locker room smelled. Like feet and bodily gases, something chemical-like or blooming, something alive that shouldn’t be. I consumed things well past their shelf life as… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 