Mostly I am an eater. Yes, I knit. Yes, I write, but eating is easy. Although I eat to survive, I write to thrive, and I knit in kinship with my mother and sister. But whereas writing and knitting are works in progress, eating I finish every time. Continue reading


Black creek

The snow glows as it falls. Today it’s soft and thick but sometimes it’s thin and pointy and dry like a skinny man with wispy hair and a trying argument that swirls in circles, stinging me. My dog twirls in circles just before he poops and he clusters all four paws together as though he’s balancing on a ball. Around and around until it comes out. The snow keeps coming, covering it all. Continue reading