Tag Archives: Toulouse

Muselessness

I’m supposed to be finishing a novel but I’m not. It’s a murky late summer day with an uncertain sky and a directionally challenged breeze smelling of salt and fir, marsh and cedar. My characters are all hovering around the … Continue reading

Posted in Absolutes, animals, Brian Doyle, Dog, Dogs, Gratitude, Novel, Slice of Life, Uncategorized, William Stafford, Writing | Tagged , , , , | 14 Comments