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Wildlife
Essays, Memoirs & True Stories
God Is Not Dead, He’s Busy Making Sure Nicole Kidman Wins Another Oscar
I was walking on the ice. Let me say up front that I am not a foolish woman, that the ice was thick and I was dressed warmly. Let me add that, though I do drink too much on occasion, I wasn’t drinking that morning. I’d just had one teeny-tiny hit of good pot. That was all.
March 2004Essays, Memoirs & True Stories
The Morel Of The Story
The year I moved to Montana, a man shot another man for picking huckleberries in “his” huckleberry patch. He claimed he thought the picker was a grizzly bear. I didn’t know which to fear more: grizzlies or men with guns. A city girl, I was used to people getting shot — just not over huckleberries.
February 2004
Essays, Memoirs & True Stories
Sparrows In Purity Supreme
Sometimes when I’m sad, I become convinced that the world is going to end. And it will end someday, of course, but scientists give it billions of years yet. My “sense of impending doom” (the phrase psychiatrists use to describe this type of fear) is all out of proportion to what I know to be true.
February 2004
Essays, Memoirs & True Stories
Money-Back Guarantee
While reading an old news article, I came upon a surprising admission by George W. Bush: he confessed that he is a novelist. In an interview with CBS he said, discussing the struggles of his contested election, “It’s been a fascination, as I’m sure you can imagine. I’m not a very good novelist. But it’d make a pretty interesting novel.”
November 2003Essays, Memoirs & True Stories
Wicked Birds
The Saturday my fingers were mauled I distinctly recall black birds everywhere. They clung to the electrical wires that draped from the several small outbuildings to the large red barn in the center of the farm. The birds called from the walnut trees and hopped among the combed-over swatches of fescue in the steaming pasture.
June 2003
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