Each time I cruise Sunset Cliffs, going to and from work, the ocean is different. Lately, there’s been high waves, their white tops frazzled by the wind like snow streams being blown off the Eastern Sierra.
There’s an intricate and delicate edge to the ferocious hunger of fire.
It is a cruel task, to frighten people in God’s name. — Vasilisa Petrovna (from Katherine Arden’s The Bear and the Nightingale)
At present, your business is to see. – C.S. Lewis
Here is to celebrating writing a first draft of my novel. And here is to the ongoing work to make it a story that others will want to read. I’ll be continuing that work—just as soon as I’m done drinking my expensive champagne.
There are some magical moments in San Diego. One is doing an airport drop off right around sunrise.
I am drawn to books that address the aspects of my life that are out of balance. And my balance of busy with stillness is terribly askew.
Smirk is one of my favorite words. It gets at the quirk of a sensation that holds conflicting emotions in the same space with a modicum of joy.
My route strokes along the side of the Pacific along the sides of Sunset Cliffs. Every time there’s a different texture to the trip: marine layer fuzzing the horizon, Santa Ana’s making the air knife sharp, the sweep of clouds catching the light silver or flame, and the blue—so many hues. Beauty’s true color is blue.