Why I stopped writing
Fairly often, people I know ask me if I'm still writing. I tend to deflect the question for the most part. Depending on who I'm talking to, and how robust I'm feeling, I might laugh it off - oh, family life killed my creative
Crisis and chaos
On the walk down to the river, I tread slowly on the powdery red dirt of the path. In the scrub on the side of the track the oak leaves are already turning crisp and brown. Too early. It's a stress response to the ongoing drought. I'
Feeding the soil
We're baking this week. Or rather, we are being baked. The online weather oracles I'm consulting with fevered devotion tell me the temperatures will tip 40°C today (that's 104°F). It's properly hot. This kind of summer feels more akin to
