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I write about gardens and birds, books and blogs, history, philosophy and psychology. It will be all wrapped up pretty and bow-tied with a connection to life in the here and now.
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Recent pages by Etc.

We hear of so much senseless violence on the news that it's easy to think that looting, thuggery and even murder is a sign of the times--but is it, really: pilliage and plunder, after all, have ancient antecedents.
Dementia is a fact of life for many, even most, families. It is devastating on a personal level to the victim and to the family. Look, up close, and understand.
Most parents find time to read to their kids. Some even stumble onto rhyming stories, but how many seek out great children's poetry? Let words be fun! Rhyme it up.
Two dissimilar writers--Truman Capote and Belva Plain--happened to juxtapose themselves in my mind and on my bookshelf. From this happenstance occurrence, I found myself thinking about what factors make one writer an artist while the other, a very good writer, is still just a very go...
It's the age-old question: What is life all about? What does it mean? Sooner or later most of us get around to asking the question and searching for answers.
Here, where we live on Ross Road near a small rural Idaho town, there is always something going on in our yard and gardens. This afternoon, this little dove, just fledged from the nest, attracted the attention of our hens.
I am an iris gardener--I raise over 1000 varieties and I hybridize them as well. Gardening is a fascinating hobby that can, quite literally, take over your life if you have enough space, and you let it.
Writers keep journals, it's a fact of life. Those who write, write everywhere, like readers read everything--even cereal boxes. My journals serve my purpose, but I won't advance them as paragons of any sort of virtue.
People talk about being blocked creatively--I don't really have that problem,but I do have rituals that lead me on--into the interior of myself.
Where do I begin? At the beginning, of course. Let me introduce myself.
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