Brits in the USA

  The death of Charlie Watts, the drummer with the Rolling Stones, this week affected me more than I thought it would. It’s not that Watt...

I seldom dream about politicians but I dreamed of Donald Trump on half a dozen occasions. Each time, the former president occupied an uneasy...

A large Mountain Ash tree grew in the garden behind the house where I lived as a child. It wasn't a remarkable tree but it was a thing o...

Easter is a time of renewal when the wind takes the pale pink blossoms from the trees and paints the sidewalks with polka dots. My thoughts ...

Earlier this month, I was lucky enough to take part in Cabin Work Week at Pocahontas State Park. I figured it would be interesting to hang...

Like the Millennium Dome, my short story for James River Writers was dogged with delays and overwrought. The title was supplied. The rest wa...

The days we leave are always the best of days. There is a pure shaft of sunlight illuminating the marble across the floor and a morning chil...

Random thoughts and images occur to me often. Today I had a vivid memory of Stan the Funny Man. Stan knew my grandmother. Some kind of a...

It doesn’t get much better than your first sip of strong Italian coffee on a patio awash in the morning sun overlooking Positano. I wondere...