I’m wondering if, as I have suspected, we women writers are endangered…in a novel way.
Small Is…
The little house is the cocoon for my escape, as smallness is and has been for so many others.
Mule Day in Santa Fe
I’ve always been fascinated by mules, perhaps because Kentucky and Tennessee were said to breed the best mules in the country because they were part thoroughbred.
Hillary, and Torrential Rain
Torrential rains are pouring across our political landscape these days, and sometimes seem about to erode all vision.
Touch
It has always been clear to me that words, on which I’ve built my creative life, can’t heal. They can illuminate and inspire… but those same words would be powerless to heal in the face of tragedy.
My Wild – Number 2: July
What is priceless about the enclave on Apache Mesa is that it is not only us newcomers who have found little pockets of paradise there; the people who have lived there for decades are still in place.
Mabel’s House
It seems we are still confined, in our appreciation of women, to admiring our roles as facilitators of other people’s lives.
It’s Over Folks!
The “angry white men” we hear so much about have every reason to be angry. Their reign, centuries long, is over.
And Sparklers, Too!
Since I have plenty of reservations about July 4th… it seemed wise to give a party to celebrate.
What Happened to Austin Brown?
Why is it interesting or worthwhile to continue to wonder about the fate of my first cousin?