Notes from an Urban Cabin

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Note 30: The power of a question
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Note #29
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Note #28
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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. 
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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…
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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…
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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…
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My neighborhood had its annual Christmas kickoff last night. The high school band marched for about three blocks, just long enough for the "here we…
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Last Saturday morning, I looked out my window at breakfast and saw people in the street, runners and walkers in the annual community 5K run and 1-mile…
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I was sitting at the dining table writing Saturday night when I sensed the cat rushing behind me and heard an odd sound. I looked over my shoulder. She…
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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…
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I hope y'all don't mind something from the Drafts folder. Apparently this was written the first week of December 2015 in the first urban cabin, that…
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© 2022 Laura Lynn Brown
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