After the snow, we return to the world.

Chipping away at a long-held habit

The end of February feels like it will never end. How can such a short month be part of such a long winter?

Spending lots of time with computer, sorting out the tech stack. Now, it's time to get back to writing.

Pondering the wonders of writing, golf, and moments of life without obligations.

A bit of poetic frustration at the bitter end of winter.

Stealing quiet moments at an oceanside condo between holiday chaos and telehealth sessions.

The ones you endure, the ones you enjoy, and the grudging admission that sitting down together is how people actually figure things out.

Fall obligations pile up. Underneath them, a question about whether attacking every task is diligence or avoidance.

A coffee shop before the day closes in, and the paradox that the life a writer tries to escape is the only material worth writing about.

The restless urge to do and prove, and the quiet discipline of following the thread back toward stillness.

Choosing to write instead of nap in the slim window between walking the dog and ordering fence stain.
