To visitors who’ve recently discovered this place

self-portrait in EdinburghWordPress Discover did me the honor of sharing one of my recent posts yesterday, for which I’m grateful. I’m happy to say Hi! and thanks for reading my work. It means a lot when my words or images connect with people. So, thank you again.

As a number of you’ve just arrived via the portal of a recent Thunderstorm*, I searched through the archives to find other posts that have a similar tone, timbre, or general feeling. Below— a few bits n bobs that may also resonate.

Enjoy! Also, if you like drawings, urban / rural photography, explore the rest of this site.

The bird in my kitchen, and other prophecies

Some thoughts from April in Baltimore

Returning from Riis Beach after a light rain warned of a coming storm

From here I can see the curve of of the earth

A quiet wander through a green wood (part the first)

A Spring rain, soon forgotten

A telegraph from Elysium

Like smoke suspended in the calm

Scaffolding for memory

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*It is odd timing that a post I wrote about a thunderstorm gained a wide new audience so shortly after the dreadful Hurricane that has done and continues to do so much damage in Houston. I’m sure the last thing anyone there cares to think about is rain, or storms, for a very long time— my heart and sympathies go to all who’ve been affected there.

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On noticing a sudden summer thunderstorm, late

From an artists studio window in Gowanus

Right now, after a very high heat index day (that’s how we talk about hot, humid days now), there’s a thunderstorm happening outside in the dark.

I missed the first hour of it. When I arrived home I took the day’s second shower, and then dinner. The air conditioning has been on, and music distractions. So I’ve had only the barest awareness of this summer storm.

But the record just ended, and I let it end (though it’s not even really a record, but a stream, a subscription, which is how we talk about music now).

I let it end and the thunder sounds big and powerful, like the things we used to know from stories.

I love the things we used to know from stories, and I want to bring them back. Stories are the reason we ever made it this far— as individuals, and as a species. Stories are powerful, like thunder and lightning.

(A summer storm sounds like the world existing, as it does, with or without us.)