The Memory of StonesRead more: The Memory of Stones
Imagine what the stones could tell if we could learn their tongue.
MiddlingRead more: Middling
There’s no knowing quite how I got here, or where “here” really is. Where I am is out of sight from where I thought I’d be. All the zigs I could have zagged are too countless to enumerate. The miles and years between then and now are laden with could’ve-beens and should’ve-dones.
Loch Maree, the Wrong Way RoundRead more: Loch Maree, the Wrong Way Round
On the far-flung banks of Loch Maree, in Scotland’s rugged north, I struggled through a wild land where even the goat paths dwindled out. “If there’s a trail around the loch,” I thought to myself, “surely this isn’t it.”
…But Not Just YetRead more: …But Not Just Yet
Today had just begun to wane, tonight not far behind; I gave the still and tired house my absence for a time.
Lemon TurdRead more: Lemon Turd
Ya’ll, something possessed me to try making lemon curd.