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It almost broke my heart, this past July, to take down my bird feeders. A bear had been seen entering our community, and although I would personally have welcomed his
Those who know such things have advised me to replace the ballet slippers that I often wear for walking with something more supportive. I can use all the support I
My mother’s relationship with the English language was complicated. She was in her early forties when she was first exposed to it, and after fifty years in America, she still
My new blog platform comes with search engine optimization (SEO), a gizmo that helps to ensure that if someone in darkest Africa googles, say, “memories of a Catalan childhood,” My
My grandparents’ farmhouse in Catalonia, with the covered terrace from which we watched the summer storms gallop towards us, the stables at the back, the chickens in the courtyard, and
Birmingham, Alabama, 1959. My parents are at the farmers’ market, buying a watermelon. They wander from stall to stall, searching for the round, basketball-sized watermelons like the ones that my
I’m in a wobbly state these days. This, I am told, is normal after hip replacement surgery, but lately I’ve been feeling even more wobbly emotionally than I do physically. My
This is to let you know that, after today, if you have subscribed to this blog you may not get an email with my new posts. I am also aware that
It almost broke my heart, this past July, to take down my bird feeders. A bear had been seen entering our community, and although I would personally have welcomed his
Those who know such things have advised me to replace the ballet slippers that I often wear for walking with something more supportive. I can use all the support I
My mother’s relationship with the English language was complicated. She was in her early forties when she was first exposed to it, and after fifty years in America, she still
My new blog platform comes with search engine optimization (SEO), a gizmo that helps to ensure that if someone in darkest Africa googles, say, “memories of a Catalan childhood,” My
My grandparents’ farmhouse in Catalonia, with the covered terrace from which we watched the summer storms gallop towards us, the stables at the back, the chickens in the courtyard, and
Birmingham, Alabama, 1959. My parents are at the farmers’ market, buying a watermelon. They wander from stall to stall, searching for the round, basketball-sized watermelons like the ones that my
I’m in a wobbly state these days. This, I am told, is normal after hip replacement surgery, but lately I’ve been feeling even more wobbly emotionally than I do physically. My
This is to let you know that, after today, if you have subscribed to this blog you may not get an email with my new posts. I am also aware that