The First Iraqi Tea
byPlease. Sit. He nodded toward me, motioned to a worn chair. Smiling, I quickly glanced at his wife and seven children, seated on or…
home
The weight of water
byI grew up in a city that was built around a river, is famous for its locks, was flooded by a creek, and is…
The Creek
byOn a fresh-washed April day 25 years ago, I sat in my car in the driveway before the brick country house that was to…
Taking it on the chin
byThe first time I got socked in the jaw it came as a total surprise. At 14 years old, I was already close to…
How to be here?
byReview: Living In The World As If It Were Home. Tim Lilburn. Cormorant Books, 1999. Most serious thought in our time struggles with the…
Sounds like home
byWerner likes to crouch in his dormer and imagine radio waves like mile-long harp strings, bending and vibrating over Zollverein, flying through forests, through…
Secondhand sainthood and the gift of losing it all
byI have spent most of my life choosing to live cheaply. I make things. I grow things. But my greatest skill is finding things….
Home/Work
byThree Rivers, Michigan (September 2015) Late afternoon sunlight slanted across the carpet and ran up the worn wood of the desk. I could feel…
How to tell when it’s winter in a Michigan farmhouse
byThe years have a way of making technology lose its bluster. And so do the centuries. When our southern Michigan farmhouse was built, the…
Indiana winter, take one
byOn the day it reached 13 degrees below zero, I decided to go for a walk. Our dog begged to go after weeks marooned…