Vers sera, specialmente, par de essere in cielo. The Piedmont writer, Cesare Pavese, wrote this about the village of Càstino, on whose outskirts we rented
It happened February 17, the single day—the only day this year it will occur. Fortuitous timing of a singular marvel.
Venice. Provence. Mongolia. Eyebrow. Doubtful Sound. Joe Batt’s Arm. Certain place names arouse emotion, desire, curiosity. But Gray Bay? If we told you we had
Last night my mother, Maxine MacLeod, passed away peacefully. Today I’m sharing a memory of mom from 1947. (Not a lived memory—I wasn’t born yet!)
New Year’s Eve, Goodsoil, Saskatchewan, we’ll be celebrating the wedding of our nephew Regan and Denika—they fell in love as teenagers eleven years ago. A good
I’ve got the ‘Novembers’. It’s not a terminal case, but I thought just telling you would somehow ease it. No real reason. Just the time of year
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