A selfish little thing I do
A selfish little thing I do for the quiet anonymity, introspection and the beauty of the space: is attend Midweek Eucharist at St. Peter’s, Quamichan. But on th...
Author: stephen t berg
When nothing else could help, Love lifted me
It’s a beautiful feeling, although fleeting: you walk upstairs into the open living room and see a tongue of ocean between stands of hemlock and further east th...
Passion Week, Easter and Two Memories of a Tricycle
It’s late spring and the leaves of poplars are deepening from lime-green to mint. I am on my tricycle in the shallow depression between the house and the barn, ...
Too late in the day for regret
Too late in the day for regret: those years of lysergic and Lebanese, of mushrooms and Millers, when we knew, despite the fugue of dissipation in the theatre of...