Category: Crooked Heart

“You shall love your crooked neighbor, with your crooked heart…”

Singing the “I-can’t-make-my-farm-pay” blues

This is kind of what my farm fantasy would look like, if I owned land in NoCal--lots of flowers and space for events like weddings or dinners. How about yours?

I had a great idea for a blog post, but it got hijacked by Salon, which published an article on Monday that has kept me ruminating and obsessing for days: Jaclyn Moyer’s “What Nobody Told Me About Small Farming: I Can’t Make…

Dark Mansion of Tween Passions

The comic collection my mother clung to for nearly forty years--a map to my 13-year-old mind.

Wrapping up the tangled threads of a 20-year residence in a beloved place is no simple matter. So much to do–work matters to conclude, charities to guide to a gentle stopping place, people to see–or not to see according to…

Of race and roses


I’ve lived in the Rose Hill neighborhood for over a decade–and the only thing I’ve ever known about it is that it was annexed to the city in the ’30s from property that might have been a plantation named Rose…