Note 31: Gardening and good days
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Note #28
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Note 30: The power of a question
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When I was a kid, every year around this time, Mom and Dad would work hard (and, it seemed to me, happily), shaking the winter out of the house. 
Note #29
For 30 years or so, on a succession of refrigerators, I kept a copy of a Mary Oliver poem. The Summer Day Who made the world? Who made the swan, and the…
I'm choosing not to renew some of my magazine subscriptions. I feel a little sheepish admitting that. (Will it earn me a "poor conduct" mark on my…
I'm trying to remember the first thing I read by Brian Doyle. It wasn't "Joyas Voladoras," his astonishing piece on hummingbirds and hearts, though that…
It had me at phone grotto. I had no interest in studio apartments. Too small, I thought. And is it a good idea to work, lounge, eat and sleep in the…
My aunt was playing bingo yesterday when I arrived to take her to a doctor's appointment. A slow ballet of wheelchairs and Rollators opened a path for…
I think this is the seventh draft I've started since the last Urban Cabin newsletter. Consider this sort of the catchall that some people write around…
I don't remember this, but it feels like I do because Mom told me about it. I was maybe four years old, standing on the sidewalk in front of our house…