JOLTED
From A Patchwork Memoir: I have eight photos of my beautiful Swedish grand-
mother Marie, my father’s mother. In my favorite, she’s sitting cross-legged in a field, bundled in a light jacket, her long skirt wrapped around her feet.
MYTH
Ella and I were disgruntled when Bob, our new landlord, told us we had to move our belongings in the basement to a storage room in a building he owns on the other side of the block. There wasn’t enough room for all our stuff at the new location, so a tower of...
SHELTERS
Another major player in my life—my painter friend Earl Pierce. In A Patchwork Memoir, I wrote about several of our outings together: Earl and I are tootling south along the coast highway in his truck; he’s telling me jokes about flying. Advice to a pilot (he was one…
OWL
I’ve mentioned before how deer often come to forage in our backyard—or used to before the conversion. Does and their fawns feasted on the plums that fell from the plum tree in back or rested on hot days in the shade of our ramshackle carport. There was lots of room...
NEIGHBORHOOD GARDENS
When the city decided my deck had to come down-—and, necessarily, my potted garden—I started taking pictures of my neighbors’ flowers so I would still have their colors brightening my life. HAPPY SUMMER,...
OXYMORON
Have I mentioned that I’m a member of BAIPA—the Bay Area Independent Publishers Association—which meets monthly in Novato, across the Richmond Bridge from Berkeley? It’s a thriving group that includes writers of all ages, editors, illustrators, graphic artists…