Category: ~

  “Everything has a pulse,” he says. We’re having coffee, sitting in a small alcove high above Finlayson Arm, that lurid-blue limb of sea that narrows toward Go...

  On a sun-splattered path through a stand of birch, we walked back to his hermitage for tea, but an Indigo Milk Cap caught his eye and he stopped,and brought t...

  As the loquacious preacher expounded on the inerrancy of the Bible and the existence of God, and I, mesmerized, by his tide of words and hefty claims, rose to...

  Every year around this time I call the farm. I listen to the muted ring of the rotary phone, and wait.Mom says, “Hello?” Her voice, careful at first, then,“Oh...