This being the season of bragging on gardens, I herewith submit the antidote to FOMO: behold our sweet corn.
Took me ’til the sixth draft until I spotted the ridiculousness of this adjective and cut it: ..on a fifteen-below winter day…
Hands down (!) the most personal piece I’ve ever written. From the book, “Danger: Man Working,” available here.
In what would have been a smoky irony I once nearly burned my house down with this bad boy while fighting a barn fire. Details in Chapter Six of “Truck: A Love Story.” Epic small-town fire department moment when the guy running tanker shuttles swings by your house, gains egress through your unlocked back door,…View post
That moment when you’re reading one of your essays live for the very first time–before a convention center full of librarians, no less–and you realize although you know what it means you have no idea how to pronounce “paean.” And then, in looking it up, realize you misspelled it in the first place.