Tag Archives: short form

The intensely masculine act of splitting wood

I fantasized regularly about having a good woodpile. For me, woodpiles always represented a unique combination of order and comfort. Everything in its right place. But after three days of splitting wood every part of me hurt. On the third … Continue reading

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The last Sunday in September

The drive from Portland to Seattle on a Sunday morning in early fall. Fog lifting, leaves changing, the look of the clouds. Later how the fire consolidated down to a few logs glowing red. The pink in the western sky … Continue reading

Posted in Memoir, prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , | 4 Comments

The last day of the fair

Going to the fair was less about going to the fair and more about reliving past times we wanted to hold onto. I’d never noticed it before, but all the rides were basically the same. In the same positions even. … Continue reading

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How I spent the back half of my summer, unemployed

I took my time shaving, flossing, folding the laundry and putting away dishes. I took long, indulgent showers. In short, I slowed down. Stopped checking my phone. Went through things in the garage, reread old letters, threw out none. Sifted … Continue reading

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Song for late summer

The kids take pictures of me napping at unflattering angles. The first colors of fall start along the highway: the pink-purple fireweed against the green, the coming yellows and browns. Those black spruces leaning in the muskeg, long patches of … Continue reading

Posted in prose, travel, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 18 Comments

Self portrait under August sky

It is a Thursday night with live music at nearby Pine Lake we can hear from our house. It is also a full moon, the night before we leave for Alaska, the coffee maker set for 3. I’ve shaved my … Continue reading

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The long descent through the quarry

I got down on my hands and knees in the shower with a toothbrush and some baking soda paste. The web site said if the drain had a musty smell that was mold, but if it was more like a … Continue reading

Posted in Humor, identity, Memoir, prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 15 Comments