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Home means very different things to different people. Now that’s a trite statement if ever there was one—but important to say before I launch into what that seemingly innocuous but really heavy-laden four-letter word means to me. I’ve declared my spiritual, home as everyone who’s ever seen this blog knows, to be Neset Camping in Setesdal Valley, Norway. My birth and forever-after—my history and geography—Northern Minnesota. My son Steven went up to… Read More
Teresa and I were invited for treats, both the little girls playing and the fresh buns and berries kind, at my friend Adrienne’s house in what is the most charming of villages out on the city’s edge. Adrienne is married to a handsome IT guy whose kids greet him with screams of joy when he arrives home from work. She is engaged in her foodie cookerywriting passions and being an obviously great mom… Read More
Facing west from California’s shores, Inquiring, tireless, seeking what is yet unfound, I, a child, very old, over the waves, towards the house of maternity, The land of migrations, look afar, Look off the shores of my Western sea, the circle almost circles; For starting westward from Hindustan, from the vales of Kashmere, From Asia, from the north, from the God, the sage, and the hero, From the south, from the flowery… Read More