When I came to Seattle in my 20s it felt like anything was possible. We drove from Philadelphia with all our possessions, my girlfriend and our books, jade plants, my two cats Pokey and Sherman. Passing through the last leg… Read More ›
pacific northwest
Primitive painters
There are parts of the chicken that don’t look like they should be eaten but dad does anyway, hunched over the table and working it with his hands and lips. Because he’s missing some teeth dad doesn’t chew as much… Read More ›
Made-up dreams
When Dawn is gone and I have the bed to myself I spread out like a starfish and fall into a deep sleep. Last night I dreamt I saw a younger version of myself; the two of us were introduced… Read More ›
The denuding affair
Once I got rid of all the pine needles and glitter I turned to the exterior and swapped out the multi-colored lights for white. Denuding the house of Christmas was a solemn but energizing affair. But living in the Northwest… Read More ›
Postcard from pinklightsabre
Woke to the sound of German choral music and then spent an hour cooking a roux. Drove to the park but had to keep stopping to take pictures of the sky. Pink in every direction, peaks white with snow. Ran… Read More ›
Make-ahead memories
There is also something intensely masculine about cooking large cuts of meat, or the entirety of an animal, like a turkey. I do it because no one else in my family will. It falls in the same category of dad… Read More ›
The cat-faced canker
There is nothing like a chainsaw to make a man feel like a man. I caught myself in a dramatic pose sinking that steel into the side of a fallen tree, slinging it like a weapon, wondering how ominous and… Read More ›
Change my life
It’s the strongest wind storm of the year and I do something I’ve never done before: drag a chair outside and sit by the front door with a blanket and coffee watching it come in. The sound is like the… Read More ›
Don’t fall on me
If there’s any month in Seattle I really struggle with the rain it’s November. It’s not a mist or a drizzle but full-on sheets of rain, sideways rain, cold, blowing rain. Rain that gets through old roofs and runs down… Read More ›
After blackberry picking
I remember the day Lily and I came home from our road trip. We’d left Utah on a Sunday morning and reached Seattle by lunchtime on Tuesday. Hadn’t driven more than six hours a day, surprised by how quickly it… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 