This post is from last summer's blog series, The Cape Cod Letters, in which my grandpa Larry and I wrote to each other during my family’s trip East in June 2021. June 10 Papa, My lips and face are chapped, my hair stringy, and my legs sore from bracing myself against the railing of the … Continue reading Winds on the Atlantic
Hey, my friends. If you aren't in a hurry and happen to care, I'd like to tell you about my writing desk--- the things on it and the things inside. I've hung pressed flowers in the corner of my bedroom here, trying to bring a bit of the garden inside. One is a lilac from … Continue reading An Update From the Desk in the Corner
Dear Young Writer, There will be times when you write with the wind in your sails, when the world is too full to take in, and ideas leap up so fast you can't reel them in. And then there will be times— probably more often— when you can’t remember what those other times were like. … Continue reading Dear Young Writer,
I take walks, and the wind is the January kind. It makes the leaves chatter high in the trees and rattles the empty trash cans at the end of each driveway. The earth is brown, save for refrozen snow lining the ditches and furrows. Now is the only time in the year when I can … Continue reading Selah
I looked for something that could fill me in 2021, but I came away with a handful of air more times than I care to recount, because as it turns out, I was looking in the wrong places. The answer, of course, was that Jesus should satisfy me, ultimately and deeply, like an everlasting draught … Continue reading A Handful
Tom Nuernberger and his wife both came to last month’s neighborhood board meeting, which is always a rehearsal of restrictions and property lines. Tom, of course, wore big overalls over his hoodie. When the meeting was over, I asked Mrs. Nuernberger about her new greenhouse, and she showed me pictures of plants climbing the windows, … Continue reading Fence Lines
The winds have turned cold, and I've been itching to get out in them, so I walked down to the greenhouse last week where I found a surprise among the wreckage (summer storms tore the tarps from the frames, leaving the house half-naked and pooled with rainwater): A beautiful bouquet of kale grew right where … Continue reading Kale Soup and the Sea
He poked his head into the church foyer and asked if we gave out free Bibles, and we looked at each other. Then we said, “Of course,” and in our hurry, almost handed him someone’s nice leatherbound they’d left on the coat rack. We invited him in out of the dark, and I gave him … Continue reading The Wanderer
The newspaper was lying on the breakfast table last week, and while I ate my egg, I read an article about Mr. Krone, the man who (I think) made my violin, or at least restored it. The front-page picture showed him at a worktable, his big hands running raw wood under a chisel. He wore … Continue reading The Violin Maker
"Thank an artist today," someone said on Instagram last week, and I happened to be walking through the booths at the entrance to Silver Dollar City--- little closets of handmade brooms and paintings and pottery and baskets and woven rugs. The makers of each were dressed in their aprons and smocks, watching us and waiting. … Continue reading Thank the Artist
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