ABOUT

A dryer’s innards sits in the middle of my fenced-in area of sand and weeds. I put papers littering my cabin inside the thing along with kindling washed up o...

Bella doesn’t know the word for blisters. She points her finger at her lifted boot to illustrate how she had no sole. She says, “I walk like this for a month...

The sun has yet to rise on this day, December 7th. I have long been up doing my morning ritual to prepare for the light that will rise out of the darkness wi...

A minute to write, which has been rare this year. A year has passed since I moved to this desert place full time. Twelve months to watch each season etch its...

A new travel trailer sits in the sand behind my homestead cabin. Its white and blue stripes mirror the storm less skies behind the creosote covered hills sur...

I have developed an acute case of musophobia in my late adult life. Spiders, snakes, not even bees rattle my cage much, but throw a mouse or the idea of a mo...

Only the remains of the super bloom are reminiscent this Easter morning from where I stand. The sun touching the tops of the blossoms which once refracted th...

Excerpt from Ed Abbey's Desert Solitaire "Cowboys and Indians Part II" In the mixture of starlight and cloud-reflected sunlight in which the desert world is ...

The first item on the list for the House on Jane Way is to figure out the waste. The house is located miles from the trash service and people in this area ar...

A weird, lovely, fantastic object out of nature like Delicate Arch has the curious ability to remind us-like rock and sunlight and wind and wilderness-that o...

Mick likes to walk as much as I do. It’s one of things I like about him and I suspect it is one thing he likes about me. We walk together every day, in the m...

All men are brothers, we like to say, half-wishing sometimes in secret it were not true. But perhaps it is true. And is the evolutionary line from protozoan ...

The Christmas holiday has ended. I am back in the desert waiting for New Year. It was a good holiday. I traveled up the coast to see a friend I taught with i...

I wait. Now the night flows back, the mighty stillness embraces and includes me; I can see the stars again and the world of starlight. I am twenty miles or m...

I arrived to the desert at the end of a year, December. This year marked by the death of woman dear to me. I don’t grieve for her. She went like she lived, e...

More storms coming. But for the time being, around my place at least, the air is untroubled, and I become aware for the first time today of the immense silen...

I didn’t listen to jazz when I last lived in this desert place. Its taste picked up somewhere along the road, a moment in time suspended in morning daydreams...

I wake before dawn in the desert. My window faces east, a front row seat for why I am here. The black mountains outlined with the first fuchsia hue. The sky ...

The personification of the natural is exactly the tendency I wish to suppress in myself, to eliminate for good. I am here not only to evade for a while the c...

I come to the desert, I suppose, to reflect. I always have even before Jon lured me away over a decade ago. I sit here now a day after his death seven years ...