Author Archives: Karen

to mother

  Dear Nancy: I’ve been on the road again, been teaching and driving, been talking and reading, and finally coming home and settling in to the quiet.  This morning, during my sixty-thirty walk I thought about this letter to you … Continue reading

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some days of rain and words

Dear Nancy: Tuesday, late morning, my second morning home after ten days of workshops and readings and seminars and the good fellowship of writers in Buckhannon, West Virginia.  Like always, I’m home from a residency so full I need to … Continue reading

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Mystery and voices and the music we aim to make

Dear Karen, I accosted a priest at the farmer’s market over the weekend. A strange place to begin a response to your gorgeous letter, I know, and accosted might not be the right word, but it’s not far off either. … Continue reading

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Let evening come

  Dear Sonja: I also have a garden that is a tangle, not of sweet peas, but of sunflowers and black eyed Susan’s and Echinacea spilling over a bank onto the patio.  As I sat out there last evening sipping … Continue reading

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Making what matters…..

Dear Karen: The sweet peas are blooming in western New York and how much I’d like to write about them, their color and whether they grow near you. The perennials are technically invasive, but to me they’re perfect, filling the … Continue reading

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Going There

Good Morning from the Ocean, Nancy: It’s Sunday morning, over the midway point here in my time by the sea.  Last year, in this same house, I wrote you about days by the sea being like skins being shed, one … Continue reading

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Night ride with stars and words

Hello, again, friend: This last Saturday afternoon, I rode with friends to Lancaster County to see a bit of Amish country—a rhubarb festival, some quilting shops, a wine-tasting.  We passed many carriages and buggies, a family fishing at a pond, … Continue reading

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Leaving the work behind

Dear Nancy: Last end-of-week as I drove through Maryland and Virginia and a bit of West Virginia then finally on toward Johnson City, Tennessee, I kept hearing a line out of a Cormac McCarthy novel in my head.  “And they … Continue reading

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Art and fear

Dear Nancy: We’ve been off the blogging grid for awhile now, and I have missed you, missed these letters, especially at this tail end of winter.  It was subzero when I visited Ohio for a reading during the last part of February.  … Continue reading

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A history of my writing desks

Good Morning, Nancy: Six degrees here this morning, and I’m deep into winter hibernation with book and dog and coffee and, here at my desk, am rereading your last letter.  I love this part, especially:  “I remember the slant of … Continue reading

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