Brits in the USA

Looking at them on the beach at First Landing made me feel old; overtanned bodies, their muscles barely contained beneath the lightly tattoo...

My new favorite song is The Sound of Silence by Simon & Garfunkel. I haven't seen The Graduate, for which the song is a soundtrack f...

Duro Sheds aren't very sexy unless you are unfortunate enough to wake up one morning and discover you are the Unibomber, but they've...

I have been meaning to blog about Chincoteague Island ever since we returned from a weekend away, but have been seized by inertia and a lack...

On the indistinct water's edge where the crumbling land meets Hampton Roads, these fishermen seemed to be more wary of my camera than th...

Looking over slabs of cracked concrete and sodden parking lots as is often the way during these interminable afternoons at work, I am struck...

I love this picture of Beachy Head, not just because it's unusual to get such a shining, azure day that sparkles on the chalk in England...

This season I am mostly missing Twiglets. While it can hardly be said that the wheat-based snack shaped like small twigs was a fashion acces...

Suddenly almost without warning it is spring. After interminable weekends when the snow hung around, a dirty and unwelcome guest at a wake, ...

I'd be more concerned about my diffidence if I wasn't so diffident. But lately I've been wondering about the word I've clung...

Americans seem to revel in St Patrick's Day. As March 17 approaches the radio is buzzing with the news of Irish celebrations at local ba...