Blog
The Magic of Millay
A year ago, I posted a short piece “The Ghost of Edna St. Vincent Millay” in honor of Millay's 130th birthday. In it I described the extraordinary influence she and her poetry had on my young self. What I didn’t mention was the influence she has continued to have...
Cão d’Agua – The Noble Water Dog
On a warm day in Western Maryland about fifteen years ago, my husband Terry,our friends Meg and Dave and I decided to eat outdoors at the Rocky Gap Resort. Chatting on our way from Dave’s car to the lobby, we were surprised to see dozens of dogs racing about...
Cegonha Branca
As my husband Terry knows well, I have a tendency to live in my head and frequently fail to notice what’s in front of me. Had it not been for Terry calling attention to the nests high above the highway while driving back from a visit to the west coast of Portugal last...
Azulejos
Azulejo is a lovely Portuguese word that rolls off the tongue in a way that its English translation "tile" just doesn’t. But in Portugal the azulejo is much more than a tile, it is iconic of Portuguese culture. For centuries, azulejos have embellished Portuguese...
Why I Blog
Blogging is such a 21st Century thing to do, but despite my 20th century reservations, a while ago I took the advice of my publisher and some of my younger friends and gave it a try. To be honest, though, I was truly convinced to blog only after I considered all the...
The Ghost of Edna St. Vincent Millay
One hundred and thirty years ago today Edna St. Vincent Millay – a remarkable, sometimes scandalous, and always brilliant poet, was born in Rockland, Maine. Twenty-five years later she moved to Greenwich Village, where she and my grandfather Floyd Dell – a...
Thank You Main Street Books!
For some time now, I’ve tried to write an “Ode to Main Street Books”. Alas, I’m not a poet and writing an ode is quite beyond me. So, I’ll post this blog instead! It’s hard to exaggerate how happy it makes me to walk into the bookstore on Main Street in Frostburg and...
Expecting the World!
As of today, my book stops being mine alone. Now it is out in the world for anyone to see. I find this just slightly amazing. Saly Portudal, Senegal, 1991 The only thing that could match my delight in learning of my book's release was being able to celebrate the good...
The Memoirist Holds Her Breath
You’ve been alone so long with your book – a memoir about thirty years of your life. Your obsessive and solitary pursuit. At last you call it done. You hand it to your publisher to take it from there. You worry whether your story is engaging enough,...
The Beauty of the Douro
Two weeks ago, my husband Terry and I got in our car and traveled five hours northwest from our village in the Alentejo to the Douro Valley, one of the oldest wine regions in the world. After ten months in lock down last year, the freedom to travel around...