At John Locke’s mill site on the Isinglass River

The stream looks tranquil now, but when swollen by spring rains and melting snowpack, the rush shoots out horizontally from the ledge above. Maybe someday I’ll get of photo of that for comparison.
Another trickle meanders from the other side of the falls when the river runs low in late summer and early autumn.
The mill sat here. The last of it was washed away by flooding in 1898.
Stonework just upstream is all that remains of a bridge that also washed away in 1898, a reminder of how dramatically the river can rise and gather force.
On a pleasant fall day, the pool allows for curious exploration.

Words or phrases I overuse

All those years in the newsroom, I still tend to conditionalize everything, rather than strike for a bold statement.

  1. I think.
  2. I guess.
  3. Maybe.
  4. Would. (Example: It would seem that …)
  5. I hope.
  6. I fear. (Or worry.)
  7. I realize.
  8. That sucks.
  9. Are you sure?
  10. Martini. As in, Quitting Time.


What I find difficult to say is “I need” or “I want.” At least directly. I usually beat around the bush with soft questions.

How ’bout you?

Care to boogie?

In my novel What’s Left, Cassia’s family turns an old church into a hot music center. It seemed like a natural extension from their restaurant.

Where do you go to hear live music?


Well, when an old church something like this came up for sale next door to their home, how could Cassia’s family resist? They weren’t about to turn it into a parking lot, either.

We don’t see love but what love does

I mean, focusing on material goods!  very atypical for us, you and me, not philosophy or fine arts or even dramatic late fall weather we’re having we really show ourselves at our crassest but as long as I’m being confessional, let’s continue in the vein: last week, at our Guild meeting, we voted to accept the company’s latest final offer for our new contract, which means I’ll be getting a big retro check covering the wage difference from Jan. 1 till now