Crossing the First Street Bridge one sunshine-filled day recently, I glanced west. The view of Point Loma and the sparkling waters of the...

“…the days grow short when you reach September” September ushers in the Ember Months. I don’t remember when I first heard the phrase, a...

The burly hunk of a man, a thatch of coarse flaxen hair sticking out from under his straw hat on the right side, concluded his...

A quiet morning in the garden Quiet, save for an occasional chirp or plane's low hum The weathered gate closed The wind gentle The iron...

Our mask-nation is gradually unveiling itself. An awkwardness permeates as we cope with “to wear or not to wear.” For some, masks dangle...

A new year begins for me each May. And the Matilija Poppies bloom. My life began in May just about forever ago. While many around me mope...

Simple pleasure. A pleasure I wouldn’t have had if there had been no pandemic. I wouldn’t have taken the time. Heirloom tomato seeds...

Harvest time. Not fruits of my bygone Camelot, Lush wine grapes Juicy oranges. Instead, the modest kumquat Is sought From my hillside...

Ordinarily the twilight hour is precious to me. Not too long ago, however, the magic time between sunset and dusk presented as nerve...

My Texas story-telling friend Chris sent pictures this week of snow—two inches—fallen across her acreage and her birdhouses. Unusual for...