Monthly Archives: May 2019

 the Sierra Buttes lookout tower The lookout tower on Mt.Hough stood on a pedestal, the sides raised on all four directions, propped with poles, the windows looking out over the catwalk that circled the structure. In the center of the … Continue reading →

Tollgate Creek. So small it goes under the entrance to Oakland Camp in a single culvert pipe. It is the water source for the camp, a low dam and a pipe to a big wooden tank. When I worked at camp, … Continue reading →

W.S.Merwin writes about Gray Herons in the Field above the River: Now that the nights turn longer than the days we are standing in the still light after dawn  in the high grass of autumn that is green again hushed … Continue reading →

I am envious of my grandson Nathaniel’s talent for drawing.  He has drawn people and dogs and those images leap off the page. The connection between what he sees and what his fingers do is complete. The dog appears on … Continue reading →

It’s Thursday and the cans are lined up on the street, two green cans filled with cuttings from the garden, a can with the recyclables and a small can for the trash that will go to the landfill. There was a … Continue reading →

Where will all these books go when I croak? My collections of Merwin and Billy Collins and Ted Hughes and William Carlos Williams.  Who will want them?  Some library that wants to add some esoteric volumes to its collection?  Who will … Continue reading →

I planted radishes again this year. French radishes, four rows of them, and the seeds germinated, the radish tops grew. One night some pest chewed them off at ground level. I left them alone and the leaves regenerated and the radishes … Continue reading →

In Ernest Hemingway’s True at First Light,published after his death, he chronicles his days in Africa.  There is a cold beer at breakfast, gin from a flask after killing some game that will become meat for the camp, and evening … Continue reading →

Graham and I were coming west on Highway 299 after a day of fishing.  The car in front of us was an old sedan, one of those long 70’s cars going at a pretty good clip. Suddenly the mountain lion … Continue reading →

In his fictional memoir, published after his death, True at First  Light,Ernest Hemingway wrote, “If I had gone to Abbas Ababa for a year to write. . .” Not going to Addis Ababa for a job, or a holiday, or … Continue reading →