Love Begets

On November 22 of last year, I lost my voice. I’m not talking laryngitis; I mean my words. They scattered from me like a covey of quail, and I knew, standing there amid the ragged stubble of a waning year, that there was nothing I could do to call them back, nothing...

Flying in the Face

A year ago I embarked on a reckless (and often humiliating) venture into the French language, and to mark the occasion I’m re-posting this piece I wrote for The Rabbit Room last summer about my decision to take the plunge. But before I can do that, I find myself...

God's Own Fool

I wrote this piece for The Rabbit Room last year, but I’m posting it here again. Because after an intensely busy spring and early summer, and a serious writing sprint on the horizon, I need to be reminded again. And again and again… So surrender the hunger...

Beyond Our Ken

It’s rare that people pay a first visit to our old farmhouse without asking if we have ghosts. I can hardly blame them; I wondered the same thing the first time I came here. It’s certainly haunted with its own past, standing there under its trees, brooding gently over...

A Goodly Heritage

Thanksgiving, like any other beloved memorial with which the years are reckoned, has its own certain types, its venerable standard of ‘brightest and best’ against which each year’s observance is weighed. They may all—or most—be cherished in our hearts, a mellow,...

A Book’s Beauty

It’s easy to forget—or perhaps never fully realize in the first place—just what a treasure we hold in our hands in the form of a book. In times not too far past, books were solely the possession of the wealthy. As recently as the publication dates of many of my...