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Van Morrison came on while I was driving to work. I know – shocker. One of those songs that finds you in the shuffle. And I got to thinking. The song that started it – © Van Morrison Words have edges. Definitions. They do their best work in the middle of things — describing, explaining,…

It’s mid-April. The bulbs are coming up again. Some plants die back completely in winter. To the ground, to nothing. And every spring they return. Not despite the disappearing. Because of it. The retreat was the work. Athletes know this. Improvement doesn’t happen during effort — it happens in recovery. You stress the system, step…

The text took twenty seconds to write. Thinking of you. How are you doing? They’re already in your contacts. The phone is already in your hand. She lost a parent, way too soon. That’s all I’ll say. A text came back this morning, and I’ve been thinking about it since. Good days and bad days,…

A few weeks ago I made my annual sojourn to visit my old friend Danny in Arizona. We’d spent previous trips on his land — hanging out in his RV, hiking, riding — but this time was different. His beautiful home was finished, and he and his wife had moved in a couple of months…

First, he hears my footsteps.  He waits for me at the bottom of the stairs every morning. When I come down, he doesn’t give way. He fills the space between me and the day. So I stop. He puts his paws up on my waist. I bend down and hold him close for a minute…

This originally appeared as a Facebook post on November 11 2022. Sixteen years ago, once we moved into our new house, we decided to get a dog. We’d picked out a yellow lab from a breeder in western Massachusetts, due to pick him up in early December, when the breeder called. He said they’d really…

3/15/26 Oracle, AZ, 5:08 AM Every great performance has an invisible story. The early morning when no one was watching. The extra rep taken not because it was required but because something inside said not yet, one more. The rep that says: I like this feeling. Craft isn’t built in the moments that get remembered.…

There’s a song that found you at the right moment. It arrived when you needed something you couldn’t quite name. You didn’t choose it. It found you. Remember? Over time, you collect them without realizing you’re collecting. A kind of private archive. Each one marking something you can feel but can’t fully say. When a…

Spring is a miracle. All winter the ground looks lifeless — brown, white, or something in between. The trees are bare. Birds are gone. The garden shrinks into dormancy. Easy to believe nothing is happening. But underneath, life is already preparing its return. Bulbs pressing slowly upward. Sap beginning to rise. The earth warms a…